


For the Crime of Love

by killingsaray



Series: My Only Crime Is Loving You [1]
Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Criminal Psychology, F/F, Grad Student!Maca, NSFW, Professor Zahir Will See You Now, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, The Professor/Student AU That No One Asked For, but I wrote anyway, deep talks, utter fucking FILTH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:48:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 72,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25634590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingsaray/pseuds/killingsaray
Summary: Maca looked at the picture and then back up at Zulema. "So you were a little badass, then?""Mm." Zulema hummed in amusement. "My mother says I was the only hell she'd ever raised. Everyone from my old life is surprised that I became a criminal psychologist instead of a professional criminal."Maca grinned up at Zulema, her dimples deepening. "I bet you still have a little bit of bad in you."Zulema's lips twitched in some semblance of a smirk. "That's for me to know..."ORThe one where Macarena is a graduate student and Professor Zahir has so much to teach her.*updates on #hotforteachertuesdays!
Relationships: Zulema Zahir/Macarena Ferreiro
Series: My Only Crime Is Loving You [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2118372
Comments: 872
Kudos: 1134





	1. Syllabus

_"We're most who we are. Unrestrained. Ourselves."_

_-Vanessa Ives, "Penny Dreadful"_

* * *

Fucking Mondays. Ever since she was a little girl, she hated Mondays, and in her twenty-five years of life, that hadn’t changed.   
  
Twisting her body like a cat, Macarena Ferreiro stretched her limbs, luxuriating in the delicious loosening of each and every muscle. She rolled with the sensation, yawning wide and exhaling what was surelyunruly morning breath. 

“Ow!” The blonde had accidentally rolled too far and managed to end up in a heap on the floor, tangled in her bedsheets. The movement yanked on her cell phone’s charging cord. The phone landed beside her and that’s when she saw it.

09:38, it read. 

“Shit!” Macarena scrambled to get up from the floor. _Of course,_ she was late as fuck for the first day of her final year of graduate school. 

Macarena Ferreiro, M.S. had a nice ring to it. One more year in school and she would be on her way to spending the rest of her life digging deep into the psyche of criminals in hopes of helping make the world a better place. The work was tough but intriguing and the money that she would make would be incredible. 

_If_ she managed to actually make it to class before graduation.

She showered quickly, managing to brush her teeth in between her shampoo and conditioning processes. Macarena was pretty sure she achieved some sort of world record for the fastest dresser because before the condensation on her bathroom mirror had evaporated, she was snatching her backpack off of the living room floor where she left it the previous night. And then she was out the door.

* * *

“...in this class, I do not tolerate excuses, absences,” the door to the lecture hall slammed shut behind Macarena, and more than two dozen sets of eyes turned to peer at the interruption, including those of the gorgeous, raven-haired woman in the front of the room. She stared directly at the blonde as she finished, “or _latenesses_.”

Thoroughly scolded, and as quietly as she could, Macarena took a seat at the back of the room, closest to the exit to avoid further interrupting the class. 

Or to make a quick getaway; she hadn’t decided. 

_Dr. Zahir_ was written across the blackboard in a decadent scrawl that was normally used by a grade six art teacher who was trying to impress her students.

“If you read the syllabus, assigned chapters, complete the homework, and participate in class discussion, then congratulations, you will pass my class. Those of you who fail to even show up on time, well,” Dr. Zahir shrugged, “you’re fucked.”

A wave of laughter when around the class, ending with Macarena who sunk further down into her seat. 

Sleeves of her micro-houndstooth printed blazer pushed up to the crook of her elbows, band tee half-tucked into the waistband of her ash-gray skinny jeans and combat boots, Macarena’s new professor looked as if she kicked ass first, took names second and rarely took any shit from anyone. Yet, there was a split second where Macarena swore she saw a flash of amusement cross her face. 

“Okay,” she pulled herself up to sit on her desk, “any more questions?”

A young, brown-skinned girl with wild curls raised her hand. 

“ _Sí_?”

“I was just wondering what we should call you.”

“I’ll answer to Dr. Zahir, Professor Zahir, and if I can recall correctly, my nickname around campus is _elfo del puto infierno_.”

A louder swell of laughter flooded the room, slowly easing the tension. 

It was true; Zulema Zahir had a reputation for being the professor that refused to accept anything less than perfection from her students. She was the harshest grader, with the most complex midterm and final exams. But, Zulema was, without a doubt, the best professor of criminal psychology that the University of Madrid ever had. 

Silence. 

Macarena looked around, and then slowly raised her hand. Dr. Zahir’s eyes shifted to the movement before her head swiveled completely. “ _Rubía_ , if you’re wondering what time class starts, it’s ten minutes _before_ you get here.”

More laughter and Macarena scoffed. The first day of class and she was already being publicly humiliated by one of the toughest professors on campus. “Um, previous students mentioned that you hosted the prison experiment, and I was wondering if you planned on doing it again this year.”

Zulema squinted briefly at Macarena. “What’s your name?”

“Ferreiro. Macarena Ferreiro.”

“Ah, sister to Roman Ferreiro, class of 2017, I believe?”

Maca sat up a little taller, chest suddenly puffing up with pride. “Yes.”

“He was a pain in my ass,” admitted Zulema with a fond smile, “but he was my best student that year.”

Macarena smiled, and Zulema noticed that her posture straightened even more. She turned her attention back to the entire class. 

“For those of you who don’t know what the prison experiment is, it was introduced by Stanford University in 1971 to investigate the psychological effects of perceived power with a concentration on the relationship between prisoners and guards. Every year, our department is given funding to recreate the experiment at the end of the year. Those that make it to the end of the experiment are exempt from the final exam-.” Excited chatter interrupted Zulema’s thought. “ _But_ , you will be responsible for writing an eight-to-ten-page paper on which psychological subjects you experienced during the course of the three-day-long experiment.”

That still sounded like a better option than suffering through a two-hour exam. 

“But, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. First things first,” Zulema reached behind her and picked up the textbook, “let’s open to chapter three.”

The flurry of movement as books opened and pages turned was like music to Zulema’s ears. She loved her job. Teaching a new class of future profilers and psychologists was always interesting. She could almost always tell which of her students would go on to become successful in their fields, and which ones would wind up working in dead-end jobs that had nothing to do with their degrees. 

“Alright. _Chapter Three: Offender Profiling_ ,” Zulema began.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, the clacking of keyboards ceased, books were shut and the zippers of backpacks echoed through the lecture hall.

“Your homework for this week is to go through the cold case archives in Martinez Hall and find any case from before 1981 that sparks your interest. Write a two-page paper on how the case agent could use the four major components of offender profiling to solve the case. Ferreiro,” Zulema called, “see me in the front.”

Macarena slung her backpack over her right shoulder and walked down the steps to the front of the lecture hall, heart pounding harder and faster with each step that brought her closer to Dr. Zahir.

“First day and you’re already in trouble, _rubía_.” The curly-haired girl from earlier teased as she walked past Macarena.

“Lucky me.” Maca muttered back.

Standing before Dr. Zahir’s desk, Maca was able to get a closer look at the older woman. She really was beautiful. Dark features, large emerald eyes lined with black kohl and green liner. Her dark hair was tied back in a low ponytail, save for her perfectly cut bangs. Iron Maiden was the band featured on her faded t-shirt and Maca briefly considered the fact that she was currently salivating over a woman who was probably older than the band itself. Sensing her close proximity, Zulema’s eyes flicked upward and Maca suddenly felt like she was eight again, standing before the nun that taught her first grade class in catholic school.

“Professor, I’m really sorry for being late. It won’t happen again.”

“I hope it doesn’t.” Zulema told her, slipping books into her leather messenger bag. It looked expensive and Macarena wondered just how much Zulema was paid to teach. “Your brother was a brilliant criminology student and it was my recommendation that put him on the fast track to profiling with the CNI. I want to be able to do the same for you, but I won’t pass you simply because of how good your brother is. Nepotism gets you a cushy job, but it will never get you the respect you crave.”

“What makes you think I crave respect?”

Zulema closed her bag and stood to her full height, crossing her arms over her chest. “Just now, the _first_ thing you did when you reached my desk was apologize to me despite how I poked fun at your lateness _twice_ in front of a room full of strangers. This tells me that you want to be known for being the bigger person. You take the higher road because it’s been ingrained in your mind that the person who does _that_ is generally the better man.”

“Is that not true?”

Zulema shrugged a single shoulder. “In polite society, maybe, but in the real world, specifically in the world of criminal profiling, you need to stand strong in your actions. Criminals smell fear.”

Macarena couldn’t help but smile at that. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

It was Zulema’s turn to smile. “Something like that.” She slipped her messenger bag over her head and pulled a set of keys from the pocket of her blazer. “See you next week, Ferreiro.”

Suddenly, Mondays didn’t seem so bad after all.

* * *

After her final class of the day, Macarena sat in a quiet corner of the library, her MacBook opened to a blank screen, cursor flashing accusingly. 

_Write something. Write something. Write something_. 

“Here’s a hint,” the warm voice startled Maca into looking up, only to see the curly-haired beauty from Professor Zahir’s class, ”if you put your fingers on the keys and when you tap them, they make words.” 

Macarena laughed. “Oh, is that how this thing works?”

She held out a hand. “Estefenía, but everyone calls me Rizos.”

Maca shook her hand. “Macarena—.”

“Ferreiro. I remember.”

“Everyone calls me Maca.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“ _Igual_.”

“I don’t know if it’s your scene, but my ex girlfriend is a DJ at Cruz. It’s a bar downtown.” Rizos pulled a flyer from her bag and handed it to Maca. “A bunch of us are having a drink tonight, have some drinks, unwind after the first day.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“I hope to see you there.”

“Maybe you will.”

Rizos nodded and then disappeared as quickly as she came.

Despite how the first day started, Maca was beginning to think that it would end so much better.


	2. The Chicken Or The Egg?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the fandom babes over on twitter have decided that this story will be updated on tuesdays, and will hereby be forever known as #HotForTeacherTuesday.

The first thing that Maca noticed about Cruz was that, despite it being a Monday night, the place was  _ packed _ . Set in the heart of the Salamanca district in Madrid, Cruz was a modern discotech that catered to its high-energy crowds. The drinks were strong, the music was loud and the dancing never ended. 

The moment Maca entered the dimly-lit club, she walked past a neon sign that reminded her that the world was her, felt the bass in her chest and she took in as much as she could in the blue lighting. She made her way to the bar and tried, in vain, to flag down one of the bustling bartenders. 

“ _ Rubía _ ! You came!” A voice to her right shouted. Maca turned and smiled in relief. She was pulled into a tight embrace by the eager woman and allowed it. 

“I did. I figured what’s the harm in having a drink or two?”

“That’s the spirit.”

“If I can ever get the bartender's attention.”

“What do you want?”

“Tequila, any kind.”

Rizos nodded. She put her fingers in her mouth and blew out a loud whistle, attracting the attention of the bartender and a few unimpressed patrons. 

“Rizos,” he grinned, leaning over the bar, “what can I get you?”

“Two shots of tequila and another round for our section.”

“You got it.” He tapped the bar twice and disappeared to make their drinks.

“Are you a regular here?”

Rizos shrugged. “Sort of. I used to come here all of the time when I dated the house DJ, DJ Vargas.”

“Is that how the bartenders know you by name?”

Rizos laughed. “No, that’s Valbuena. He’s been trying to sleep with me since freshman year of undergrad.” She took Maca’s hand and led her through the crowd to a sectioned off corner of the club with the best view of everything.

“Is this your ex?” Maca asked Rizos, pointing to the DJ currently laying down tracks.

“God no,” Rizos said over the thumping bass, “she’s on in,” she checked the time on her phone, “another ten minutes.”

“ _ Mola _ .”

In the meantime, Rizos went around and introduced her circle of friends to Macarena. There was Yolanda, the tall brunette with kind energy who hugged Macarena tightly as if they had been friends their entire lives. Tere, who was a little older than the rest of the group, but looked as if she could party with the best of them. Luna had tried to shake Maca’s hand and light a blunt at the same time, ultimately deciding to light the blunt first before offering it to her new blonde friend. And lastly, there was Nerea, Rizos’ current girlfriend, Maca had learned, who was in the police academy.

“Oh, there she is!” Rizos shouted, grabbing Maca’s arm and pointing towards the tall brunette that had just taken over the DJ booth. “That’s Saray, my ex-girlfriend.”

“She’s cute.” Maca nudged Rizos, teasingly.

“Yeah, but a pain in the ass.”

There was clearly a story there, but Maca didn’t want to pry. After all, she and Rizos hadn’t been friends long enough for that conversation. Mostly because if Rizos revealed something about herself, Macarena would be obligated to do the same and she wasn’t there just yet.

“Come on,” Rizos pulled both Maca and Nerea down three small steps, “let’s dance.” Maca allowed herself to be led towards the stage. She turned briefly to see that half of the VIP section was currently following them, pushing through the sweaty bodies on the dance floor until they were mere meters from Saray. 

Saray spotted Rizos immediately, and winked at her before giving a jut of her chin to Nerea. Saray picked up the microphone, shouting over the blaring music to ask the audience if they were ready to have a good time. The crowd called out in the affirmative and Saray followed up by playing a house version of one of the most popular songs that Maca had heard on the radio just that afternoon. The crowd went wild.

For the next couple of hours, Macarena found herself losing track of time and the amount of drinks that her new friends shoved into her hands. She laughed, and drank her fill, using her entire body to feel the incredible list of music that Saray kept playing. It was just past one a.m. and Macarena had been winding her hips to a hip-hop song with Yolanda when she turned in a semi-circle and watched as a shorter, dark figure nudged its way through the crowd, towards the stage, drinks in hand. 

Maca had to do a double-take, because she was almost certain that was--.

“Is that Dr. Zahir?” Maca shouted in Yolanda’s ear.

“Oh yeah, she’s best friend’s with Saray.”

“What?”

It was a strange duo, for sure. Saray was at least ten years younger than Zulema, as far as Maca could tell, but it was quickly dismissed by Yolanda. “Yeah. Long story.” 

Confirmed. It  _ was _ Dr. Zahir. And she looked…  _ hot _ . Dark hair, free from it’s elastic prison, a few strands pushed behind her ears, fell just past the shoulders of her bomber jacket. Underneath, there was an oversized hoodie that was pulled halfway onto her head that slipped as Zulema --or her doppelganger, Maca still wasn’t too sure through her tequila-induced haze-- held one of the shots of clear liquid up to Saray. Saray leaned down to take it from her, never losing her rhythm as she grooved to the beat. They clinked the shot glasses together, tapped them against the turntables and then knocked them back. Zulema took the empty glass from Saray, and just as she turned, for the briefest of moments, she locked eyes with Macarena Ferreiro. Zulema sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, biting on it in contemplation as she took in Maca’s tight jeans and slinky top. 

_ And… was that a tattoo on her face? _ Maca squinted in a vain attempt to get a closer look, but in a flash, Zulema had turned towards the exit and disappeared into the crowd, leaving Macarena to wonder if she’d made it all up in her head.

* * *

The week dragged by slowly. Tuesday, Maca was hungover in her first three classes, but after a two-hour nap where she dreamed of emerald-green, kohl-lined eyes, she woke up raring to go for her final glass of the day. Wednesday and Thursday were uneventful. She only had a single class each day, and the rest of her time was spent in the archives of Martinez Hall trying to find a case that grabbed her attention in order to write her paper or Dr. Zahir’s class.

_ Dr. Zahir. _

Macarena hadn’t been able to get the older woman off of her mind since she’d seen her in Cruz. She was gorgeous, sure, but seeing her outside of class was like an out of body experience. She had looked so badass, and Maca couldn’t help but wonder what she was like as a friend. Certainly, there was a boundary there that could never be crossed, but something told Maca that Zulema Zahir was more than just a criminal psychology lecturer.

Friday was a busy one. Two of her longest classes were back to back, leaving her completely drained. She declined an invitation to Rizos off-campus apartment and, instead, spent the evening in the house trying to relax. Saturday, she spoke to her family, happily using her paper for Dr. Zahir’s class as an excuse as to why she couldn’t attend brunch with them. She loved her family, sure, but when the more she studied the psychology of humans, the more she could see the very cracks in the facade of her parents’ marriage, as well as her brother’s engagement. So, it was best if she stayed away until she learned better to compartmentalize better, or so she told herself. 

On Sunday, Macarena set aside the homework she had from other classes in order to work hard on her paper for Dr. Zahir’s class. After a half a bottle of wine, a shit-ton of research and a major rewrite, Macarena finally felt satisfied with the end result, and she was certain Dr. Zahir would be as well.

Monday morning came quickly, and Macarena was careful not to make the same mistake she’d made on the first day of classes. She awoke early, giving herself plenty of time to shower and dress. She made it to campus an hour early and decided to grab a coffee and a quick breakfast at the cafe in the lobby of the psych building.

She’d been served --avocado and egg toast and a large, hot coffee with a double shot of blonde espresso, thank you very much-- and she picked a corner table just away from the crowd. Macarena had just bit into the warm breakfast when she heard the barista call out--.

“Zulema!”

Her eyes shot up and she watched as Zulema, hair tied back into a low ponytail stepped forward to claim her large coffee. Then, Maca’s heart began to pound as she realized that Zulema had turned and was walking directly towards her table. Closer and closer to stepped, and Maca’s brain rapidly flew through every possible scenario that could possibly happen, only for Zulema to walk directly past her table and towards the condiments against the wall. Maca breathed out a sigh of relief and began to shove her breakfast back into its to-go container. Maybe if she gathered her things quick enough, she could avoid what was sure to be an awkward conversation with Zulema. Bag over her shoulder, coffee and breakfast in hand, Macarena stood from the table only to nearly bump into someone.

“Rushing off to my class, I hope.” 

Zulema’s voice made Macarena’s spine shoot ramrod-straight. “Dr. Zahir, fancy seeing you here.”

_ Fancy seeing you here? What the fuck was that? _ , Maca mentally kicked herself.

“I’m here every Monday morning.” Zulema held up her coffee in explanation. “Breakfast of champions.”

Maca held hers up as well. “Same.”

“I’m glad to see you’re excited to turn in your first paper for me, but class doesn’t start for another half hour.”

“Yeah, well, I have to be on time. I’m afraid my professor will  _ actually _ turn into an elf from hell if I’m late again.” Maca’s eyes bulged. She had no idea if that nickname was offensive to Zulema, so she quickly added, “That was a joke. I’m kidding. I don’t actually think you’re capable of that. I just--.” 

Great, now she was rambling. Zulema grinned, but refused to put Maca out of her misery. 

“I-I’ll see you in class.” Maca muttered and scurried off, leaving behind an incredibly entertained Zulema.

* * *

“There are five questions that one should always ask themselves when applying criminal psychology in a real-life case study.” Was how Zulema started class on Monday morning. “Show of hands, who has heard the existential question: what came first, the chicken or the egg?” Zulema asked. She watched in amusement as her students looked at each other in sheer confusion. “I promise, it’s not a trick question.”

A few unsure hands went up.

“Excellent. In the world of applied criminal psych, we have a question similar to it. What came first: the crime or the mental disorder?” Laughter went around the room and Zulema grinned. “I know. It sounds silly, but this is the true test.” As she spoke, Zulema paced back and forth, one hand pushed into the front pockets of her dark jeans, while the other gestured freely. 

Without even asking, Zulema seemingly commanded the attention of each and every student. Heads swiveled left and right as they kept their eyes on her, each hanging onto her every word. 

“Either this patient has severe mental disorders, or his or her lawyer is just trying for an insanity defense. It’s  _ your  _ job to use the other four questions to determine if that defense is viable or if they’re simply trying to get over on you.”

It was incredible, really, how different Zulema looked. 

Here, in the lecture hall, she was composed. Reserved, even. Totally in her element, as she spoke passionately about criminal psychology. In a Metallica crew neck shirt, black jeans and black blazer, and heeled booties, Dr. Zahir’s work outfit was far cry from what she wore to Cruz. Zulema turned to write something on the board and Maca’s eyes drifted downwards, admiring the way her ass looked in the jeans. The writing motion caused the older woman’s hips to twist side to side briefly and Maca crossed her legs and bit on the cap of her pen. Suddenly, Zulema spun back around and looked directly in Maca’s direction and she saw Maca jerk to attention. She yanked the pen from her mouth and her eyes flickered back to Zulema’s face. If she didn’t know any better, Macarena could have sworn she saw the ghost of a smirk pull at Zulema’s lips. But no sooner had it appeared, it was gone again, and Macarena was forced to look down at her paper and pretend to write something, if only to avoid further embarrassment.

She refused to look back up for the remainder of class. If she had, she would have noticed the way Zulema’s brows had knitted together.

  
  



	3. Office Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everybody say ‘thank you anna [sapphiczule] for posting the sexiest ever gif of najwa in glasses’. and for inspiring the final dialogue of this chapter.

Named after a wealthy ancestor of the school’s headmistress, the Aguirre Library on South Campus was where Zulema had hidden. Tucked quietly at a table behind the seldom seen volumes of psychology research encyclopedias, the brunette poured over the first assignment she’d given her students. Between four day classes and a Thursday night evening class, Zulema had her work cut out for her. But she wouldn’t trade her job for the world. 

Red ink pen in hand, Zulema pulled her legs up under her bum and adjusted the clear frames on her face as she read through yet another two-page paper. She circled a few errors and was just about to grade the paper when she heard a high-pitched whistle meant to capture her attention. She raised her gaze to see her best friend poking her head around a cherry-oak wood bookshelf with a grin on her face. 

“How’d you find me?”

“Mm,” Saray revealed two to-go coffee cups and a brown carryout bag, “I can remember having to lug your lunch all the way up here when I was your teaching assistant.” She handed Zulema one of the cups of coffee and then plopped down in one of the three empty chairs at the enormous table.

“Bless you,” Zulema said, gratefully accepting the caffeinated beverage. 

“I also know that if no one reminds you to eat, you won’t.” As Saray spoke, she shuffled Zulema’s papers together and pushed them to the side much to Zulema’s chagrin. But before the older woman could complain, Saray pulled out a lentil soup, half a sandwich and an apple and placed it in front of Zulema.

“You’re not supposed to have food in the library.” Zulema scolded, jokingly as she pried the kid off of the soup bowl. 

“What are they gonna do? Expel me?” Saray kicked her feet up onto the chair next to her. She reached forward and picked up the stack of papers and red pen. 

“Let’s see,” she said, clearing her throat, “‘1979 Pascagoula and Offender Profiling’ by Macarena Ferreiro.”

Zulema’s spoon slipped out of her hand, clanged against the table and fell to the floor. Saray looked over the top of the paper, catching Zulema’s furtive glance that abruptly shifted to the spoon on the ground. Saray’s dark-lined eyes squinted. Zulema quickly reached to pick it up and sat it beside her bowl, clearing her throat.

“Ferreiro, why does that name sound familiar?”

“I taught her brother, Roman. I think you were still my TA then.”

Saray thought for a moment before a lightbulb went off in her mind. “Oh, yeah, the know-it-all that really didn’t know it all.”

“Mhm,” was all Zulema replied while picking up her apple. 

“Does she live up to the Ferreiro legacy?”

“Not sure.” Zulema took a much too large bite of the fruit. “Only had two classes so far. First class, she was late.”

“And you humiliated her, I’m sure.”

Zulema grinned and shrugged one shoulder. “She seemed to take it pretty well.”

“I see.” Saray sat Macarena’s paper down.

Zulema refrained from rolling her eyes. “You see what?” 

“She challenges you.”

“Not yet, but she will.”

Saray leaned in closer. “How do you know?”

“She has a need to please authority figures. Comes from being the younger sibling of someone with a Type A personality. Doesn’t want to be left behind or seen as the fuck up. She’ll start speaking up in class, debating with me and her peers once she sees that I enjoy a challenge.”

Saray bit into her cheek, trying to keep a smile off of her face. “You’ve got it all figured out, huh, Zule?”

“It’s my job.”

“Mhm. It’s not your job to profile your students.” Saray reminded her. “Or your friends. Keep doing it and you’ll be single for the rest of your life.”

“Who says I don’t _want_ to be single for the rest of my life?”

“Because Zule,” Saray sighed, “you crave deep connections with the people you like. You only get bored when you can’t dig deep into their minds.”

“Now who’s profiling whom?” Zulema asked, dropping the half-eaten apple back into the brown paper bag. 

Saray simply shook her head. “I can’t wait for the day when someone changes your mind.”

“When that day comes, I will dance on the bar during one of your sets at Cruz.”

* * *

“I’ll be frank,” was how Zulema began class, “I’m not pleased at all with these papers.” She held up the stack so the class could see the red marks on the first one. “But that’s what I expected.” As she spoke, Zulema walked up and down the aisles and handed each person their corrected homework. “Great profilers don’t happen overnight. Amazing psychologists aren’t formed over several days of research. All of the best criminal psychologists have started somewhere. Even me.”

Once she finished her rounds, Zulema walked back to front of the classroom and opened up her laptop. As she tapped a few buttons, Maca looked down at her own paper.

_ A C+! What the fuck? _ , Maca screamed internally. 

“This is my first ever assignment for Professor Miranda Aguirre. You guys may know her as Headmistress Aguirre. Many, many  _ many  _ years ago,” Zulema paused as the class laughed, “she started out as a professor here. I was one of her students. The assignment I gave you all was the exact same assignment she gave us on our first day of class.” She tapped another button and the white projector screen lit up, revealing the scanned copy of an essay with a big, fat ‘D-‘ circled at the top right. “This was my grade.”

Sure enough, on the top left, Maca could see Zulema’s name and title of her essay on the top left of the page. Suddenly her C+ didn’t seem so bad after all. 

“She didn’t expect us to be excellent on our first try, and neither did I. Now, each of you have strengths and weaknesses that I want to talk about and throughout these next few months together, I want to be able to give each and everyone one of you an A+ on your final papers. So, during this next week, I want you all to use the sign-in sheet outside of my office door to have a one-on-one meeting with me to discuss what I want you to work on this year.”

Maca’s heart started to pound. She rubbed the palm of her left hand over the leg of her jeans, trying desperately to calm her stirring nerves. 

It was moot. 

Because one day this week, Maca was going to be alone in a room with Zulema Zahir.

* * *

Maca tried so hard to play it cool. She told herself to wait until at least Wednesday to sign up for whatever office hours were left. 

She barely made it to lunch on Tuesday before she found herself in front of Zulema’s office door, pen in hand, signing her name in an open spot. 

And on Friday at 5:45, she was sitting in the waiting area of Zulema’s office, fidgeting with the zipper on her sand-colored leather jacket. The sound of an instant message chimed from the computer of Zulema’s pale-faced secretary.

“Macarena Ferreiro?” 

Maca jumped at the sound of her name. A shy smile from Casper, as Maca had nicknamed the young girl at the desk, did nothing to calm the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. 

“Professor Zahir will see you now.”

Maca stood up, backpack in hand. She opened the door marked  _ Dr. Z. Zahir _ , and stepped inside, shutting it behind her. Zulema was standing and shrugging out of her blazer. Maca watched as Zulema took care in draping it over the back of her chair. She gestured for Maca to sit before resting one hand on her desk and the other on her hip. 

And a slight smirk appeared on her face.

All Maca could do was try to remember how to breathe. 


	4. Passing Moments

The first thing Macarena noticed was the gothic-style tattoo wrapped around her right bicep. And it reminded her of their brief encounter at the club that Rizos had invited her to where she could have sworn Zulema had another tattoo on her face. 

Maca’s eyes flickered up to Zulema’s face and she squinted slightly. Sure enough, there was a faint line under her left eye, hidden underneath a thin layer of foundation. Her eyes drifted up further and she was met with dark green eyes dancing with amusement. 

“You’ll make a good profiler,” Zulema said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You look at everything.”

Maca felt her cheeks getting warm. 

“It’s a compliment.”

“Th—,” Maca cleared her throat, trying again, “thank you.”

Zulema finally sat in her office chair and opened a leather-bound journal. Watching as she flipped through a few pages filled with elegant handwriting, Maca cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably.

“Don’t be nervous,” Zulema told her without looking up from the book.

“I’m not nervous.”

Zulema glanced at Maca’s body language and smirked, looking back down at her notes. “I can’t tell by the way you’re gripping the armrests of your chair for dear life.”

Maca quickly pulled her hands away from the chair and folded them in her lap.

“So, I wanted to talk to you about the strongest aspects of your paper and the ones I felt were your weakest.”

Maca nodded once. “Okay.”

“So, first you seemed to understand the overall concept of what I was asking from you which is a lot more than I can say for some of your peers.” 

Maca smiled at the compliment. 

“But what really blew me away was how in depth your knowledge of the four steps of profiling is already. For the case you chose, you  _ did _ reach a bit as far as the analysis of the criminal’s motives, but it was still fairly creative to say the least.”

As she spoke, Maca’s vision became tunneled and she found herself focusing more on Zulema’s lips and less on the words that were coming out of them. Her hands fidgeted in her lap and she brought one to her mouth, biting on the corner of her thumbnail. 

Zulema was  _ different _ than anyone Maca had ever dated. For one thing, she was older and more knowledgeable. And sure, perhaps Macarena had only heard Zulema talk about criminal psychology and profiling, but it was always with such passion and dedication to her craft. The blonde wondered what else Zulema knew, and with what intensity could she teach Macarena?

_ Fuck. _

Her cheeks got warmer and the flush spread from her cheeks down to her chest. The thought of Zulema with her hair down, in one of her vintage band t-shirts, glasses and not much else flashed through Macarena’s mind. 

“So, I think that’s something you could focus on.” Zulema said and Maca nodded. That fantasy was definitely something she wanted to focus more on. For the love of god, the older woman had the body of a twenty-year-old

“Do you have any questions for me?”

“How old are you?” Maca heard the words leave her mouth before she could stop them. Her eyes widened and she leaned forward, both hands up in a sign of surrender. “I’m sorry. That was rude. Don’t answer that. It’s none of my business. Y-you just look so…  _ young _ . Not that you  _ aren’t  _ young, but I just—.”

Zulema smiled. Just like I’m the coffee shop a few days prior, Macarena’s ranting was incredibly adorable. Especially because Zulema knew she was the cause of it. This time, Zulema decided she would put the young blonde out of her misery. She pushed away from her notes and rose from her chair. Rounding the wooden desk, coming to a halt beside Maca’s left leg. The same leg that started started to bounce slightly as Maca shifted in her seat. 

Zulema slipped her hands inside of the front pockets of her jeans and leaned against the desk. Ducking her head to catch Maca’s eyes, the brunette asked conspiratorially, “How old do I look?”

She watched as Macarena’s chest began to rise and fall at a quicker rate. And she had resumed on that goddamned thumbnail.

“Thirty?” Maca guessed. 

Zulema’s smile widened. “Are you being polite?”

“No?” Macarena replied. 

“Is that a question?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Maca was entirely too flustered by Zulema’s close proximity. 

“I’m forty-eight.”

Maca’s eyes widened. “Are you fucking with me?”

_ Not yet _ , Zulema thought fleetingly. She shook her head to clear it. 

“No.” 

“Age really is nothing but a number, huh?” Macarena said, but it was mostly to herself. “Not that it matters.”

“Tell that to my constant neck pains.” Zulema half-teased. 

“You still seem cool, though. I mean, the other night when I saw you at Cruz, you looked really chill.”

Laughing, Zulema shook her head. “Ah, special circumstances. My good friend was the dj that night.”

“Saray? Yeah, she used to date my new friend Rizos so that’s how I got the invite.”

“Rizos,” Zulema nodded, clearing her throat. “She’s a character.”

“I can already tell.”

“Word of advice?”

Maca sat up straight and nodded firmly. Any advice from someone as successful as Zulema Zahir, she would take to heart. 

“Keep your head in the books and try not to let Rizos pull you into her party girl lifestyle. You have a lot of potential, and I’d had to see you lose out on any opportunities that may come your way.”

“Noted.”

Zulema looked at Maca for a moment longer and when she was satisfied that her student was taking her seriously, she pulled one hand from her jeans pocket and held it out. “Thank you for coming in to see me. I expect great things from you Macarena Ferreiro.”

Maca stood up and slipped her backpack over her shoulder. She slipped her hand inside of Zulema’s and shook it gently.

“Thank you so much, Professor. I appreciate you taking the time to sit with me. I won’t let you down.”

Then, it happened. 

A small moment passed between the two of them as they continued to slowly shake hands, neither choosing to end it first. 

Their eyes met. 

Emerald searched olive.

Macarena’s lashes fluttered. Zulema noticed. 

“Zule, I have five minutes to sign these papers then I have a—oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were still in a… meeting.” 

Maca abruptly pulled her hand away from Zulema’s and she took a step back as a confident brunette strolled into Zulema’s office as if she owned the place. 

“Helena, meet Macarena Ferreiro. Macarena Ferreiro meet—.”

“Professor Helena Martin. I know who you are. I’ve read both of your books. It’s an honor.” 

“Pleasure’s all mine. Should I—?”Helena pointed over her shoulder and started to back out of the room.

“No, no. I was just leaving.” Macarena said. She turned back to Zulema, meeting her eye one final time. “Thanks again, professor. I’ll see you in class on Monday.”

“Until then.” Zulema replied. 

Helena watched Macarena leave and as the door shut behind the blonde, she turned back to Zulema with a knowing look on her face. Zulema scoffed and rounded her desk. 

“Don’t give me that look.”

“What?” Helena grinned, crossing the room and standing before Zulema’s desk. “Do I have on my ‘keep it in your pants, Zule’ face on?”

“You’re ridiculous.” Zulema bent forward, pushing aside papers to find the one she was searching for. 

“Am I?” Hands cupped around the lip of the desk, Helena learned forward, asking with an unnecessary air of sensuality, “Or are you just busted?”

“Am I busted?” Zulema tilted closer to Helena, matching her posture and tone, “Or do you just get jealous of any woman that I’m in a room alone with besides you?”

“I think you’re projecting, Zule.”

Zulema chuckled and stood to her full height. She plucked a pen from her organizer and held it up for Helena. “Just sign the damn paper.”

“Fine. Who else is coming to this lecture or do I have to carry this whole department on my back?” Helena asked as she signed the consent form. 

“You should really see someone about those delusions.” Zulema remarked. 

“That’s what Fabio and a bottle of tequila are for.”

Zulema grimaced. “You’re still seeing him?”

“The only way to get over someone is to get under someone new, right?”

“I can’t even  _ begin _ to unpack what is wrong about that statement.” Zulema said. “But to answer your first question, Saray is also going to be at the lecture.”

“Excellent. Just like old times.”

“Speaking of time, make sure you’re punctual.”

“Fine. Drinks this weekend?”

“Yeah. Let me know when and where.” Zulema confirmed. 

Helena took her leave and Zulema plopped down into her office chair. 

Almost immediately, her mind strayed to Macarena Ferreiro. The blonde was cute, sure. But what Zulema really enjoyed was how absolutely worked up Macarena got whenever Zulema was around. The fun she could have with Maca if she just allowed herself to. They were both grown; Zulema a bit more than Maca, but still.

Zulema sighed heavily and then told herself, “Keep it in your pants, Zule.” 


	5. Late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise at the end of the chapter.
> 
> *nsfw

_ Fuck, she was late again!  _

_ Maca ran down the hallway towards Dr. Zahir’s class, clutching the strap of her messenger bag. She reached the end and swung open the door, nearly tripping her way inside of the lecture hall. A dozen heads turned to look at her. Maca caught her balance and stood to her full height and the first set of eyes she found were those of Professor Zahir. The amused smirk that she reserved especially for Macarena was ever-present. Maca pleaded with her eyes for Zulema to take pity on her. _

_ “Miss Ferreiro, glad you could join us. Find a seat.” Zulema gestured with her hand to any of the empty desks, but before Macarena could slink sheepishly into a chair, her movements were halted. “Front row, please.” _

_ Maca did her walk of shame down the flat steps of the lecture hall and towards the front row where she plopped down in a plastic chair right next to Rizos. _

_ “Ooo, someone’s in trouble,” Rizos sing-songed.  _

_ Macarena opened her mouth to respond, only for Zulema to clear her throat and raise a brow at the two women. _

_ “Ferreiro, see me after class.” _

_ The blonde groaned and sank further down into her seat.  _

_ Maca blinked and the time passed quickly. Class was over and as she listened to the sounds of her peers packing up and shuffling towards the exit, Maca remained seated. Zulema stood before her desk, palms against the wood and one ankle crossed over the other. Maca watched long fingers drum patiently on the desk as Zulema smiled and nodded politely at the students who took the time to say goodbye to her.  _

_ The last student finally exited and Zulema’s head swiveled slowly until her dark green eyes met Maca’s light ones. Sighing heavily, she crossed her arms and nodded her head towards her desk, wordlessly commanding that Macarena cross the room.  _

_ And the blonde did. With almost no hesitation, Macarena stood and crossed the room to Zulema’s desk. Her hands balled into tense little fists at her sides and, under the intense gaze of Zulema Zahir, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.  _

_ “Macarena, I thought I made it clear that I don’t tolerate latenesses.” Zulema said. Her voice was lower than Maca remembered. And her eyes twinkled with something that made a chill run down Maca’s spine.  _

_ “I’m sorry, professor. It won’t happen again.” _

_ “That’s what you said the last time, so forgive me if I don’t believe you.” _

_ “My alarm never went off and I—.” _

_ “Your alarm is an inanimate object. So, was it your lack of consciousness and respect for me and my class that stopped you from setting the correct alarm?” Zulema wondered as she pushed off of the desk and walked in a semi-circle around Maca, stopping on her right. She reached up and slipped a soft tendril of blonde hair behind Maca’s ear, leaning close and murmuring, “Maybe you just need to be taught a little respect.” _

_ Maca’s eyes fluttered closed and she exhaled a shuddered breath. “Yes, please.” _

_ She didn’t have to see it to know Zulema was smiling. A firm hand on the small of her back made her flinch just a little and she was pushed forward.  _

_ “Hands on the center of the desk.”  _

_ Maca bent forward, nervous palms splayed wide on the center of Zulema’s paperwork. Her ass poked deliciously out toward Zulema who had shifted until she was standing behind her younger student. Adept fingers reached around her waist and unbuttoned and unzipped Macarena’s pants and they were shimmied down her waist, over the curve of her hips cand left to rest at her thighs. A practical, black cotton thong perched perfectly atop the round globes of Macarena’s ass. Purposely, Zulema brushed against her and grabbed a ruler that had seemingly appeared out of thin air.  _

Oh god yes _ , Maca thought and she swallowed roughly.  _

_ If she was going to be punished, there was no better person than Zulema. Instinctively, Maca bent lower just a tad more, causing her rear end to lift higher. She heard a soft exhale of a chuckle from behind her as Zulema revelled at the sight of Macarena Ferreiro poised and ready to take whatever she was willing to give. _

_ “Ten blows. One for each minute you were late. And you’ll count every one out loud.” Zulema grabbed a fistful of blonde hair and pulled until Maca’s back arched and Zulema’s lips touched her ear. “Just like the nuns used to do.” She let go of Maca’s hair and before the younger woman could brace herself, Zulema cocked her arm back and then brought it forward. Macarena heard the sound before she felt the pain, but she barely had time to register it, a rolling wave of pleasure crashed through her core and seeped its way into her panties. _

_ “One,” she panted. _

_ Another slap of the ruler against her ass, and Maca actually moaned.  _

The blaring of her alarm startled Maca. Her eyes shot open and she used her free hand—the one not shoved into her pants— to reach over and tap furiously at the stop button on her phone. 

She sighed as she lay back against her fluffy pillows. Lifting her knees and spreading them wide enough, Maca slid her hand between cotton and soft skin. Down.

Down.

_ Down _ until--.

“ _ Two _ !” Maca groaned. Eyes wrenched shut, she summoned the image of herself bent over Professor Zahir’s desk, ass up. Then, there was Dream Zulema just behind her, delivering blow after stinging blow of her wooden ruler.

Maca circled two fingers around her clit, swirling her own natural lubricant round and round. She used the fingers of her other hand to squeeze at her hardened nipples that were covered by her shirt. Her hips circled and as Dream Zulema pulled her thong to the side, real-life Macarena, did the same. One probing finger dipped inside, testing her own readiness. She couldn’t wait much longer, so she sank two of them in, as deeply as they could do and used the digits on her other hand to rub gently against her own clit.

Another spank with the ruler and Maca’s legs raised even higher in bed until her pointed toes were no longer touching anything. The fingers on her clit rubbed faster.

In her mind’s eye, she took all ten strokes of Zulema’s ruler, but she knew that if it ever happened in real life, Macarena wouldn’t last past number four before she was begging for Zulema to fuck her. When she finally did ask fantasy Zulema to do the honors, she pictured herself flat on her back and spread wide open for the older woman.

Faster and faster, went her fingers. And she added a third to fill her perfectly as she reached her peak, and the moment fantasy Zulema’s ruler smacked firmly against her cunt, Macarena came.

“Fuck.” Maca panted, wiping her fingers on her shirt. 

This was not good at all.

* * *

To the cafe, she went, desperately hoping to avoid a run-in with Zulema while simultaneously wishing that she  _ was _ there.

_ I’m here every Monday. _

When Macarena first entered the campus coffee shop, Zulema was nowhere to be found. Macarena let out a sound that doubled as a sigh of relief as well as one of disappointment. Still, it gave her time to gather her thoughts, because how on earth was she supposed to sit through an hour-and-a-half lecture while being forced to watch as Zulema walked back and forth in front of her godforsaken desk?

As her luck always did, it ran out; no sooner had Maca received her order and turned to grab a few napkins, there she was. The woman who she’d fantasized about merely an hour ago as she writhed around her own bed knuckle-deep inside of herself was sat at a table table, red pen in hand, with her brows furrowed in concentration. The brunette muttered something to herself and then shook her head before drawing a long, red line across the paper before her.

As if sensing someone’s eyes on her, Zulema looked up. She searched the room for a moment before she spotted Maca over the frames of her glasses. Her eyes dropped down and then inched back upwards and then came…

That  _ fucking _ smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part II coming tomorrow!


	6. War

_That fucking smirk._

The one that said _oh, the things I could do to your body rubía_. Or was that just in Maca’s mind? She gave a small, awkward wave of her hand. Zulema didn’t return the gesture. Her amusement became more apparent, she shook her head slightly and turned her attention back to the papers in front of her. 

_What the fuck am I doing_ , Maca thought to herself. Her little crush on Zulema was too obvious and she was going to do nothing but hurt her own feelings in the long run. Deciding that she would recycle the sexual energy she felt for Zulema and put it towards focusing on her studies, Macarena straightened her posture, held her head high and strutted out of the small coffee shop. 

Half an hour later, she sat in the back row of Zulema’s class next to Rizos. As Zulema started Monday’s lecture by reading the first few pages of chapter four in their textbooks, Macarena reminded herself to keep an impassive expression on her face. Zulema gave them an exercise to finish by the end of class and even as she walked up and down the rows, leaning over her students shoulders to analyze their work, Macarena remained focused. 

Until Zulema stopped at her desk and leaned over her shoulder, one hand on Maca’s desk. Neither of them spoke, but as her scent took over Maca’s senses, she found herself gripping her pen tighter. 

She could have swore she heard Zulema chuckle softly. She turned slightly, brows furrowed and lips poured like a petulant child, but Zulema was already slipping past her to stop at Rizos desk. 

But before she did, Maca would have bet her tuition check that she felt a slight tug on her blonde ponytail. 

Class ended, but not before Professor Zahir mentioned that there would be a lecture on Friday in Diaz Hall. 

“I’ll leave a sign-up sheet here. It’s first come, first serve, but I’ll be remiss if I didn’t mention that those who sign up, will receive extra credit.”

Though Macarena said otherwise, Rizos dragged her to the front of the room to sign the sheet. 

“With the way Zulema grades, we could use the extra points.” She mentioned. 

So, Macarena stepped up to the desk that she fantasized about. She cleared her throat, and lowered her eyes to the paper. As she signed her name, a war waged within her as she internally screamed at herself to not look up at the dark green eyes that were staring a hole into the top of her head. 

In the end, she lost the battle. She looped the cursive ‘o’ in her last name and then her eyes flickered up. 

And Zulema grinned as if she’d been waiting for it all along.

* * *

Friday couldn’t come fast enough. Macarena was excited, to say the least. She had invited Rizos over for a drink beforehand.

“ _Joder_ , _rubÍa_ . This place is _nice_.”

Macarena waved a hand, humbly responding, “It’s nothing major, but it’s home.” She’d opened a bottle of a robust cabernet sauvignon when Rizos texted that she was on the way over. Pouring the dark liquid into two glasses, she slid one across the countertop to her new friend. 

“To new friendships.”

Macarena raised her glass in agreement and tapped it against Rizos’. “I can’t believe you’re actually coming to the lecture tonight.”

“Why?”

“Well, isn’t your ex one of the guest speakers tonight?”

“Yeah, but,” Rizos sighed, “our relationship is complicated.”

Maca rested her forearms on the counter, grinning. “And what does Nerea think about this ‘complicated relationship’?”

Rizos swirled the red wine around in her glass and smiled back. “She likes to remind Saray that she carries a gun and knows the best places to hide a body.”

Maca tossed her head back and laughed. “Okay, wait, be honest with me: you like that they have pissing matches over you, don’t you?”

Rizos shrugged, a faux shy expression on her face, and then she broke out into a wide grin. “Yeah, I love it.”

The two women snickered conspiratorially. 

They sat in the kitchen for a while, chatting and sipping their wine. Maca learned that Rizos had a twin sister with two children. Their parents weren’t really around, but they had a pretty good life regardless. Maca told Rizos about her mundane parents who were seemingly perfect. And about her brother, Roman, who Maca always seemed to outshine even when she wasn’t trying. The conversation steered towards what their dream jobs were once they were finished with the master’s program. Rizos wanted to work with juvenile delinquents, while Macarena wanted to follow in the footsteps of her brother and work with the CNI. 

“Well, that’s _if_ I can get Zulema to write me a glowing recommendation.”

“Oh, _Zulema_ , huh?” Rizos replied. “Are we on a first-name basis with our hot, crim-psych professor?”

Maca rolled her eyes. “Dr. Zahir! You know what I mean.”

“Mhm,” teased Rizos, “I know exactly what you mean.”

Maca turned to look at the clock on the microwave and her eyes bulged. 

“Shit, we’re going to be late! I’m going to get dressed quickly and then we’ll go.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were headed out of Maca’s apartment and stepping into their awaiting Uber car. 

* * *

_Diaz Hall, South Campus, 7:27PM_

Diaz Hall consisted of three lecture halls that were a fraction larger than the ones for classes. They each had a platform stage accessible by four small steps on either side, designed specifically for guest speakers. 

When Macarena and Rizos walked in through the side door, they were surprised to see that the hall was nearly filled to capacity and the hushed chatter of dozens of conversations filled their ears. The front two rows had a few empty seats, three in the middle reserved for the school’s headmistress and the two guest speakers. Rizos pulled Maca to the second row, where they sat three seats, giving them the perfect vantage point of the curved stage. 

A few moments later, the lights in the audience dimmed, leaving the stage illuminated enough for everyone to see Zulema enter stage left and stand in the center. Almost immediately, the audience settled, giving their attention to _el elfo_. It was funny to Macarena that despite Zulema’s short stature, she intimidated nearly everyone she came in contact with. 

But what Macarena was beginning to understand was that it wasn’t because she was scary, it was because she was charming and mysterious. And people were always intimidated by something that they couldn’t so readily label as one thing or another. 

“Good evening, everyone. Welcome to tonight’s lecture on Modern Day Profiling. Tonight, we have two special guests to speak with you. First, is Saray Vargas de Jesus. Many of you know her as one of teaching assistants and resident badass,” Zulema joked, tickling the audience, “but now she is a criminal psychologist who works with inmates at Del Norte Correctional Facility. Second, is my dear friend and colleague, Dr. Helena Martin, bestselling non-fiction author of _Marked for Error: Nature vs Nurture_ and _Killing the Past: Mind of a Murderer_. Please give them your undivided attention and the warmest of welcomes.” Zulema started the applause and the audience followed as Saray and Helena appeared on the stage, all smiles and waves for the group of students and faculty that had come to hear them speak. 

Macarena watched as Zulema walked down the small steps from the stage. Panic shot through her chest when she realized that the brunette was walking in her direction. She stepped up one of the flat steps, past the first row and to the second where she stopped at the empty chair to Macarena’s left. Heart thumping in her chest, Maca’s lashes fluttered and her breathing deepened when Zulema smiled at her. 

_Actually smiled._

“Is this seat taken?” 

Maca swallowed and her lips parted. To her right, Rizos, who had been watching the exchange with intrigue, elbowed her. 

“Nope, it’s free.” Rizos spoke up and Zulema sat down. 

“Rizos.” Zulema greeted. 

“ _Zulema_ ,” Rizos replied, smirking at Macarena. Macarena gave her a look that screamed _stop that_. Before Rizos could respond, Saray’s raspy voice came through the sound system and everyone’s attention was drawn to the front of the room. 

“Okay,” Saray began, her hand in the air, “show of hands, who here has a cell phone?”

A few laughs of disbelief as nearly the entire lecture hall raised their hands.

“Keep your hand raised if you have a laptop or home desktop with internet access.”

No one’s hands dropped. 

“Congratulations, you all have the potential to become victims of modern day predators.”

A collective incredulous expression on people’s faces as they looked around at the room made Saray smile.

“It’s not your fault, that’s just the risk we take living in the twenty-first century. Allow me to explain…”


	7. Pictures & Pitchers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> michelle, I love you for planting the Instagram seed and then watering it and then tending it and then letting it bloom into this chapter! I hope you enjoy it. PS. the IG theme will continue into next chapter. 😘✨🤍

_ “It’s not your fault, that’s just the risk we take living in the twenty-first century. Allow me to explain…” _

Saray walked back and forth across the stage as she spoke, her hands gesticulating with purpose as she went. “The Internet has made it incredibly easy for predators of all sorts to find their next victim,  _ but _ social media has made it even easier. Now, let’s say you take a photo of your favorite breakfast and geotag the cafe where you bought it. Not only is that free advertisement for the cafe, but also, free advertisement for where to find you every Sunday morning. Or you post a fun video of you and your friends dancing at a club. All it takes now is for a date rapist to find you at the club and slip something into your drink.” 

Maca’s posture straightened and she began to chew on her thumbnail. 

Rizos leaned over and whispered, “Sounds like  _ your _ Instagram,  _ rubía _ .”

Maca shushed her quietly and turned back to the lecture. Just as she did, she felt Zulema shift in her chair until her left leg was outstretched and the other leg bumped against Macarena’s. With a furtive glance to her left, Maca noticed that Zulema made no effort to move it and she was focused only on Saray’s lecture. Untapped energy forced Maca’s leg to start bouncing. Up and down it went, the friction between her leg and Zulema’s warmed her skin. 

But it was nothing compared to the heat she felt through her jeans when Zulema reached over and rested a firm hand against Macarena’s knee. She silently willed Maca’s leg to stop bouncing uncontrollably and at the same time caused a tidal wave of arousal to flood into Maca’s panties. 

Satisfied that Macarena’s leg would remain still, Zulema’s hand lifted away from her knee and she fell back into her own lap. 

Saray stopped in the middle of the stage and reached into her pocket, pulling out a small remote. “If you take Dr. Zahir’s criminal psychology class, you may know about offender profiling and the three things that profilers look at when establishing a pattern of offender behavior. One of them being victimology, which includes an offender’s  _ type _ . So, let’s say your offender likes blondes,” she clicked a button over her shoulder at the general direction of the projection screen and Macarena watched in sheer panic as her Instagram profile was suddenly on full display to half of the student body, “he has a world of bikini-clad blondes right at his fingertips.”

Macarena sank further down into her chair, leaned one elbow on the armrest, and tried unsuccessfully to hide half of her face. In her pocket, her phone began to buzz, undoubtedly with new follow notifications. 

“If they prefer curly-haired party girls,” Saray clicked a button and Rizos’ profile was shown next, “they wouldn’t be hard to find.”

Someone in the audience let out a wolf-whistle. Rizos stood from her seat, arms outstretched. As the entertained crowd began applauding, she gave a theatrical bow, then waved to her adoring fans, before sitting back down. Maca turned to look at Zulema, who pushed her tongue against the corner of her mouth, trying to refrain from laughing. 

Saray continued on, explaining how though social media made it easier for predators, it also made it a bit easier for law enforcement to catch them.

There was a brief intermission between Saray’s lecture and Helena’s. Maca and Rizos stayed in their seats but as the crowd lights rose, Zulema pushed herself out of her chair and headed to the stage. 

Macarena’s eyes followed her every movement. Saray was in deep discussion with Headmistress Aguirre when Zulema snuck up behind her and tugged at her long ponytail. Maca’s eyes widened a fraction. Maybe she  _ hadn’t _ imagined the pull on her own hair in class on Monday. She’d spent the majority of the week wondering if it really happened and if it had… what did it mean? 

Now, she witnessed Zulema do the same to Saray and now she had more questions than answers. Did Zulema and Saray have a…  _ thing _ ? Were they more than just best friends like Rizos said? Is that why Rizos and Saray broke up? 

Just as she leaned over to ask Rizos, Helena gently hip-checked Saray to the side and Saray put her hands up in surrender as Helena pulled Zulema into an embrace. When they separated, Helena’s hand slid down Zulema’s arm and toward her hand, their fingers linking briefly before they pulled apart. 

Rizos murmured, “Looks like you’ve got some competition,  _ rubía _ .”

“What?”

Rizos jutted her chin towards the stage. “Looks like Helena is trying to get back with Zulema.”

“Wait, they were together? How do you know?”

Rizos gave her a  _ look _ . 

“Right,” Macarena acquiesced, eyes rolling, “you know everyone and everything.”

Rizos grinned. “And don’t you forget it.”

“What about Zulema and Saray?”

“What about them?”

“Did they ever date?”

“Gross, no. They’re like sisters. Saray really looks up to Zulema, and whether she knows it or not, Zulema looks up to her, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, apparently Zulema didn't have a very structured upbringing, so Saray is sort of her conscience at times.”

Macarena nodded, soaking up the information like a sponge.

“Have you taken any classes with Professor Martín?”

“Helena? Nah, but she seems cool. A bit cocky, but it clearly works for her.” Rizos mentioned with a shrug.

“Yeah,” Macarena distractedly replied, “clearly.”

She took her eyes away from the stage for a moment and then turned back to it, Saray was walking down the steps and towards them. She knelt on the empty seat in front of them and leaned over the back of to reach for Rizos.

“Estefanía.” She said with a grin. They greeted one another with a double-kiss and then Saray turned to Macarena, holding out a hand. 

“Saray Vargas.”

“Macarena Ferreiro, although, I guess you already knew that,” Maca replied, nodding towards the stage. 

“Yeah. Sorry if we embarrassed you. It was easier to go through Rizos’ friends’ list than to pick someone completely random. Plus, Rizos and Zulema say you’re a tough cookie. I knew if anyone could take it, it would be you.” Saray threw her a wink and then turned back to Rizos. Maca pinched Rizos’ arm. 

“Ow!”

“You knew she was going to use my profile and you didn’t warn me?” Macarena asked in disbelief, laughter dripping from her tone. 

“It was more fun that way.”

Saray smiled. “Don’t be mad. It’s sort of a rite of passage around here to be pushed into the spotlight when you’re friends with Estefanía.”

“Oh, I’m not sure we’ll be friends for much longer,” joked Macarena. 

Rizos put her arms around Macarena and squeezed tightly, Maca’s cheek squished against Rizos’. “You don’t mean that.”

“You guys should hang around after Helena’s lecture. A few of us are going to get drinks at The Academy tonight.”

“Cool.” Rizos responded. “We’ll be there.”

“Cool.” Saray pushed off of the seat and left them alone. 

“What’s The Academy?” Maca asked. 

“Cop bar just off of Calle Huertas. Strong drinks, cheap prices and hot people, some still in their uniforms.”

“You know,” Maca touched a hand to her neck, “suddenly I’m parched.”

Rizos laughed. “Yeah, I thought you might be.”

A few moments later, the lights dimmed again and Zulema returned to her seat beside Macarena for Helena’s lecture which touched on the effects of social media on the psyche of a predator. She wasn’t as interesting to Macarena as Saray was, but Macarena took special care to watch Zulema’s reaction to Helena. But the older woman gave nothing away. She either had the greatest poker face, or she was genuinely unaffected by Helena’s presence. 

Maca did notice, however, that at some point, when Zulema’s forearm dropped against the armrest that separated her seat from Macarena’s, the backs of their hands touched and Zulema looked… well, a little less unaffected. Maca saw her lashes flutter and Zulema’s chest rose and fell just _ that much _ quicker.

A childlike giddiness made Macarena’s heart feel so light as if it could float away at any moment. And when she felt the soft knuckles of Zulema’s hand brush against the back of her own, Macarena could have died happily just then. 

* * *

The Academy was a warmly-lit, smoky bar where the bartender, a retired cop himself, knew everyone by name and majority of their orders as well. 

At a tall, round table near the corner pool tables, Macarena and Rizos sat on high stools with Zulema, Helena and Saray. Within thirty minutes, Nerea made an appearance much to Saray’s chagrin followed by a gentleman by the name of Fabio who seemed to rub Zulema the wrong way for no apparent reason. It eventually became clear that he was sleeping with Helena, if the way he constantly touched her was any indication. 

Zulema was right about Macarena. She did look at everything. She watched the way everyone interacted with each other and when they were by themselves. It was obvious that Rizos and Saray were the life of the party, constantly making jokes and laughing boisterously. Macarena found herself enjoying everyone’s company. She assumed they would take themselves seriously, but when Saray began a game of “guess my crime”, Macarena became all too aware that she was sure she’d found the group she wanted to be around for a long time. 

They pointed to random people in the bar and tried to guess their personality based on body language and what type of crime they would commit. 

Fabio poured the last bit of the beer into Helena’s glass and a collective, disappointed “aww” went around the table. 

“No worries,” Maca replied, grabbing the pitcher, “I’m on it. Next round’s on me.”

As she waited at the bar for the next round of beer, Zulema appeared next to her. Macarena cleared her throat and shifted slightly to the left, just in case she was in Zulema’s way.

Zulema bluntly inquired, “Do I make you nervous,  _ rubía _ ?”

“I wouldn’t say nervous.” The blonde confessed. “You intimidate me, but I have a feeling you enjoy that.”

Zulema neither confirmed nor denied Macarena’s statement. She held up two fingers to the bartender and then slid her credit card towards him. 

“Why don’t you ever say more than ten words to me at a time?” Macarena asked. Both Zulema and Macarena were sure it was the alcohol giving her the confidence to ask, but at least she was finally asking. 

“I’m still trying to figure you out.”

_ That was… okay, yeah that’s fair _ , Maca thought.

“What’s there to figure out?”

“Everything.”

“You could just ask.”

“I could,” Zulema turned to her and smirked, “but what fun would that be?”

Maca shook her head, expression matching Zulema. “Fine, I’ll let you continue to be intimidating.”

“Let me?” Zulema laughed and Maca’s eyes dropped to her mouth. 

“Yeah,” teased Maca, “let you.”

“ _ Vale.”  _ The two pitchers of beer and a receipt were placed between the two women. 

“Word of advice on being intimidated by something or someone,” Zulema offered, signing her name on the credit card receipt, “if you can’t get past the fear, go for it anyway.” Maca’s jaw dropped. Zulema turned to walk away with the pitchers of beer before stopping in her tracks. “That was twenty-one words, by the way.”

Macarena grinned.

“ _ Venga _ ,  _ rubíta _ ,” Zulema called over her shoulder. “You can get the next round.”


	8. Black Tie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for michelle, because honestly, your mind is a treasure trove of zurena goodness and everyone should know it.

Macarena felt like she was floating on air when she got home from the bar. She went through her nighttime routine with a dopey grin on her face as she relived the last couple of hours. 

When they’d returned to their table of friends, Zulema made it a point to stand next to stand to the right of Maca’s chair. Rizos noticed and when no one else was looking, she gave Macarena a wide-eyed ‘I see what’s going on here’ expression. The small touches continued with Zulema’s arm brushing across Maca’s shoulder as she leisurely rested her arm on the back of her chair. At one point, as the conversation shifted to the pros and cons of using profiling tactics in a relationship, Saray wrapped an arm around Zulema’s neck and whispered something in her ear. Zulema looked at Maca, then back to Saray before shrugging shyly. The dynamic duo disappeared to the bathroom not long after that, and when they returned, the group slowly began to disperse, calling it a night.

The blonde turned off her bathroom light and padded barefoot into her bedroom, scooping her phone from her bedside table as she went. Maca flopped down into her bed, pillows attempting to suffocate her with their fluff. She unlocked her phone and opened the Instagram app, scrolling through the pics Rizos had tagged her in. She found one of her, Rizos, Saray, and Zulema. Zulema wasn’t tagged.

But Saray was.

She clicked on Saray’s tag and was immediately brought to the woman’s Instagram page. The most recent photograph was of her and Zulema, taken under the red lighting in the bathroom of The Academy. No doubt during their bathroom trip. Saray had tagged Zulema in that picture! Macarena tapped it immediately and Zulema’s social life was abruptly on display for Macarena to scroll through. She scrolled further and further down, opening each picture and reading captions and comments. Zulema’s aloof nature in person was completely different from the way she interacted with her friends in the comment section. She was witty, yet concise in her responses and, more than once, Macarena found herself chuckling out loud.

Before long, Macarena had reached the end of Zulema’s page and all she wanted was more. So, next, she began to tap through the photographs that Zulema was tagged in. Most of them also included Saray as well. Eventually, she was beginning to recognize faces and put together how Zulema and Saray knew certain people. 

Then she made a mistake. Under one particular picture of Saray and Zulema in a car, Saray jokingly commented on how the sun enhanced her own bare-faced beauty. In the replies, Zulema said ‘careful, your narcissistic tendencies are showing’.

And Maca laughed out loud before tapping the little heart beside Zulema’s comment. Instantly, her heart started to pound and she quickly unliked it. But the damage was done. Zulema was sure to get a notification that Macarena had liked a comment on a picture that was nearly six months old, and it wasn’t even on Zulema’s actual page! 

“Way to go, stalker.” Macarena scolded herself. She began to play scenarios in her head about Zulema’s reaction. _Would she be flattered? Annoyed? Would she begin to build a profile on Macarena?_

Maca had _just_ opened her web browser to google ‘ _how to pass a class without ever showing your face again_ ’ when her phone buzzed with a notification from Instagram at the top of her screen:

_@zulemazahiroficial started following you!_

Macarena sat up on her bed, eyes wide. That bubbly excitement returned in full force. A muffled squeal escaped her throat and she kicked her feet childishly.

Maybe, just maybe, their next interaction would be a lot less awkward than Maca thought.

Across town, Zulema and Saray had been sitting in Zulema’s den, laughing at someone Saray said. It was a regular thing for them; when they were having a good time they didn’t want it to end, so Zulema enticed Saray over with the promise of good whiskey and good laughs. At some point, Zulema had picked up her phone to find an email that she was telling Saray about. As she scrolled through, Saray shifted a few times on the couch, getting comfortable. Then something happened, she got a notification from Instagram at the top of her screen and she had to do a double-take. Clicking on it, it brought her to an older photo of herself and Saray. 

So, Macarena Ferreiro had been looking through her pictures, Zulema deduced. 

"Saray, guess what?"

"Mm?" Came a sleepy response. She looked over the top of her phone to see Saray snuggled up on the couch under a mountain of decorative pillows with her eyes closed. Zulema shook her head and turned back to her phone. 

_Would she be crossing a line if she started to follow Macarena?_ Zulema prided herself on professionalism, but there was something about Maca that Zulema found herself absolutely drawn to, and it was getting harder and harder to resist the magnetic pull between them.

So, she tapped Macarena's username and then hit the 'follow' button. Zulema waited for a few moments to see if Macarena would return the gesture, but nothing happened. Sighing, Zulema pushed off of the couch and just as she sat her phone down, it vibrated.

_@maca.ferreiro started following you!_

With a satisfied nod of her head and a soft smile on her face, Zulema replaced the pillows covering Saray with the blanket from the back of the sofa. She turned the lights out and headed to bed. 

* * *

As the next few weeks seemed to fly past, Zulema and Macarena had settled into a little routine. Over the weekends, they would post short pictures or videos on their Instagram stories, and wait impatiently for the other to watch them. Then, on Monday mornings, there were the accidentally-on-purpose run-ins at the campus coffee shop. Sometimes, Zulema would pull her into a brief conversation, usually beginning it with praise or criticism of Maca’s most recent assignment. It never lasted longer than the time it took for a barista to fix their drinks. 

In class, Maca sat in the front row with Rizos beside her and an eager-to-learn expression on her face. She watched Zulema intently as the older woman paced back and forth, lecturing them in criminal psychology. 

On one particular Monday, Macarena had been focusing extra hard on Zulema and the way she moved and spoke and gestured with her hands because she’d totally zoned out and didn’t realize it until Rizos nudged her. 

“ _Rubía,_ class is over. Let’s go.” 

“ _Qué_?” Maca looked around and saw some students packing up while others were already heading for the door. “Sorry.”

Maca looked over at Zulema, who was sitting at her desk, fingers clicking away at the keys. Rizos followed her gaze and grinned. She leaned over Maca’s desk, whispering, “Hot for teacher?”

“What?” Maca scoffed. “No! Don’t be ridiculous.”

Rizos’ brows disappeared under curly bangs. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

“Remind me again why you’re taking Intro to Shakespeare.”

“Because I’m trying to become more cultured.”

“Mhm.” Maca said in disbelief, gathering her things, “and the professor?”

“Not bad to look at.”

Maca laughed and slung an arm around Rizos’ neck. “That’s the Rizos that I’ve come to know and love.”

The pair started towards the door and just before they rounded the corner, Maca turned back around to see Zulema looking directly at her, an unknown look dancing in her eyes.

* * *

Two weeks before Halloween, Macarena was walking around her apartment, half-heartedly cleaning while talking on the phone to Rizos when a knock sounded at her door.

“Hang on, there’s someone at my door.”

“That’s so weird, someone just rang the buzzer here too,” Rizos responded.

Macarena opened her front door but there was no one there. She looked down and on her doorstep was a gold envelope and a red rose sitting on her welcome mat. Balancing the phone between her ear and shoulder, Maca scooped down to pick it up and as she opened it, she heard Rizos chuckle.

“What happened?”

“Saray is having her annual Halloween murder mystery dinner.”

Maca pulled out a black, heavy stock invitation. In gold calligraphy, it announced the exact same dinner party that Rizos had just mentioned.

“Oh, looks like I was invited too.” 

“Really?” Rizos’ excitement suddenly shot through the roof and she squealed happily.

“Maca, it’s going to be so much fun! We get all dressed up, Saray has this incredible company to cater dinner. We drink, eat, and _profile_ one another in order to figure out who the murderer is.”

Rizos launched into a very detailed description of the previous year’s dinner. It was the only year that no one had figured out who the murderer was, and naturally, it was Zulema.

“She outsmarted everyone and even managed to pass the suspicions onto other guests. It was great.”

“Okay, I’m actually getting really excited. This sounds like so much fun.”

“It is. Plus,” Rizos added, “Saray makes this drink called The Necromancer that has absinthe in it and, let me tell you, a lot of unexpected hookups happen.”

“Seriously?” The thought of Zulema hooking up with someone that wasn’t her sent Maca into a tailspin.

“Yup.” Rizos gasps again. “We have to go shopping.”

That got Maca’s attention. “Yes!”

They spent the rest of their phone call planning a shopping date.

* * *

_Pozuelo De Alarcon, Madrid, Saturday, Halloween, 8:17PM_

Black-tie was the dress code, and despite trying on dozens of dresses in just as many stores, Maca and Rizos still ended up being fitted for dinner suits. Maca’s with exaggerated shoulders and sequined lapels offset Rizos’ sheer pants and the sleeveless bodice worn underneath. They decided on splurging for an uberBlack where they were picked up and driven to their destination in a black-on-Black luxury SUV.

They pulled up to an extraordinary Tuscan-style villa just east of Las Encinas set amidst a sprawling vineyard that could just barely be seen under the brilliant moonlight. Macarena and Rizos were led through a beautiful maze-like garden to a backyard that was more the size of a park by a hostess dressed in a gold corset, white satin shorts and a matching tuxedo jacket with long tails. 

“ _Bienvenido a El Oasis_.” She said as she gestured for them to roam freely. 

White string lights gave the backyard a soft glow across the six sixty-foot sailcloth event tents. A long rectangular table clothed in black linen was decorated with white candles floating in rectangular glass vases filled with water. The light danced and gave the white ginger lilies placed beside them an almost-angelic glow. Expensive white china was paired with gold utensils, SV etched at the handle, were placed in a formal Italian setting, complete with table numbers. Tall, white candles were safely and strategically placed to give the seats a more intimate feeling.

A dozen or so guests were scattered about, not including the servers who weaved in and out of the guests, holding _hor d’oeuvres_ and flutes of champagne. 

“Wow,” Macarena said. 

“Yeah, Halloween is Saray’s second favorite holiday. She goes all out.”

“So, I see.”

Macarena looked around, raking in everything that was so beautifully decorated, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t looking for something in particular.

Or rather… some _one_. 

“Don’t worry,” Rizos said, pulling off the last two champagne flutes from the tray of a passing server and handing one to Macarena, “she’ll be here.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Macarena smirked. 

“Uh-huh. Sure you don’t.”

“Speaking of people being here,” Maca said, “I can’t help but notice Nerea isn’t here tonight.”

“She didn’t get an invite,” Rizos admitted. 

“Hmm. _Interesting_.”

“Yes, very.”

“Oh, come off it, Rizos. You’re planning on hooking up with Sar—.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the hostess from earlier interrupted, “everyone has a place at the table and if you’ll be so kind as to find yours, the evening will commence.”

The guests walked around the long table, searching for their names and pointing to others if someone needed help. Rizo’s name was on the right, beside the head of the table that undoubtedly belonged to Saray. 

Maca turned to read the two name tags she was standing in front of her, one to Saray’s left and one just beside it. 

“Well, well,” came a voice that was cigarettes and sex and all of Macarena’s deepest desires at once, “it looks like you’re stuck next to me tonight.”

Macarena turned to find Zulema in sheer black stockings, black high-waisted pin-up shorts, a lace bustier, and a blazer with the sleeves rolled up. Her jaw dropped.

“Wow.” Maca breathed. 

“Yeah, I’ve been getting that reaction a lot tonight,” Zulema said.

And then, came that godforsaken smirk.

 _Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2 coming tomorrow!


	9. La Asesina y La Inspectora

No sooner had everyone taken their assigned seats, there were a few moments of silence before a loud shriek sounded. And everyone craned their necks to find where the noise had come from. The scantily-clad hostess from earlier ran from the garden maze.

"There's been a murder!" She shouted. 

"You are now in Venice, Italy.” Saray’s voice appeared before she did. She exited the house via the French doors, forcing everyone to turn around. One hand in the pocket of her tailored tuxedo pants and the other holding a lit cigarillo, she continued, “The year is thirteen-hundred. You, the rich, elite, and corrupt, are all witnesses, whether you know it or not. There are thirteen not-so-innocent bystanders. One victim." As she spoke, Saray stalked around the dinner table, touching, gesticulating with her smoking hand as she spoke, until she finally reached her chair at the head of the table. "If you will look under your dinner plates, a card with your character for the evening. Every card has a list of characteristics necessary for your cover. Be charming, strategic… _clever_ . There is a twist in this year’s game. This time there is one murderer _and_ one accomplice. The murderer’s mission is to find their accomplice by the end of the evening, but be careful,” warned Saray, “don’t mistake your accomplice with the inspector. If you don’t have a card under your plate, you are the victim.”

The guests all lifted their plates and retrieved their cards. Except for Rizos. 

“Aww.” She pouted. 

Saray ran the knuckle of her finger down Rizos’ cheek. “Sorry, _cariño_. Looks like you’ll have to sit this one out with me this year.”

Zulema and Maca looked at one another, each giving each other a knowing look.

“Mingle, drink, investigate, find out who knows what. Along with these appetizers," servers began placing plates of food in front of the guests, along with small notebooks and pens, "are your interview notepads. Use them wisely. Before dessert, you will place your guesses in these hats." Another of the servers showed off a black tophat with a Vanna-White flourish. "One for the murderer. One for the accomplice. Be sure to write your name on your submission and include motive, weapon, and/or opportunity. There's a wonderful prize for whoever figures out who the murderer and accomplice are first." 

Saray held up her glass of champagne and finished with, "Happy hunting."

Maca opened her card and read it.

_Character: Murderer._

_Personality traits: Avid gardener. Avid reader. Mysterious. Seductive._

_Motive: Secretly in debt. Needs to collect on a multi-million-dollar insurance policy in which you are the beneficiary to run away with your lover (accomplice)._

_Weapon: Hemlock, fed to a quail. Quail fed to the victim as their last supper._

This was going to be fun.

* * *

After they’d tasted the appetizers, the guests were permitted to roam the grounds, admiring the villa as they tried to solve the mystery. Maca mingled and found herself speaking with some incredibly brilliant people. Saray really knew a wide range of personalities, and they all seemed to mesh well together. There was a fellow DJ, a few profilers, a couple of therapists, and even Helena was in attendance. 

Zulema watched everyone. 

Macarena watched _her_. 

It seemed that no matter where she was in the garden, her eyes automatically gravitated towards her professor. She saw the brunette looking at everyone’s hands, watching for any signs of guilt. But it was their faces that she really focused on. She tilted her head when she spoke with people, and her eyes squinted suspiciously when she chatted with others.

Just before the fist main course was served, it dawned on Macarena that Zulema was the inspector.

_“You’ll make a good profiler,” Zulema said, crossing her arms over her chest. “You look at everything.”_

Zulema had been speaking from experience. A slow grin crept across the blonde’s face. 

The premise of the game was fun, but now… well now Macarena was absolutely delighted by the idea of trying to outsmart Zulema Zahir. 

“She’s enchanting, isn’t she?” A voice came from over Macarena’s shoulder. She whirled around, careful of her freshly topped off champagne flute.

“Who now?”

Helena jutted her chin towards Zulema. “It’s her mysterious nature, I think. She gives just a little to pull you in, make you think she’s yours, and then you spend the rest of your life wondering if you ever really had her to begin with.”

“Beautiful things aren’t meant to be possessed,” Macarena replied, shocking even herself with the statement. She didn’t know where it’d come from, but there was something about Helena that rubbed her the wrong way.

“Of course they aren’t but the fun comes with trying.” 

Maca hummed in disagreement. “And how does that normally work out?”

Helena’s eyebrows rose. She opened her mouth to respond, but they were interrupted by Rizos who slipped an arm around Maca’s waist. 

“Okay, how fun is this?” Rizos quipped. 

“You’re dead, how are you having fun?”

“I’m trying to solve my murder from beyond the grave.”

“Who do you think it is?” Helena inquired.

“Not sure yet, but if you don’t mind, I want to steal Maca to take a few pictures in the garden.”

“Oh, of course.”

With a polite smile, Rizos steered Macarena away from Helena. 

“I hope you don’t mind me pulling you away, but it looked like you were going to smack her.”

Maca laughed as they reached the garden where Rizos proceeded to force Maca to take a dozen pictures of her in front of a rose wall before she turned the camera on Maca, herself.

Eventually, they were herded back to the dinner table for the main course, Macarena took her seat beside Zulema. To her surprise, Zulema was the first to initiate conversation.

“So, what do you think of the evening so far?” Crossing her legs and shifting her upper body to face Maca, Zulema rested her forearm on the back of her chair. Her free hand twirled one of the many rings on her fingers. Maca’s eyes dropped to watch the movement and the image of that ring-clad hand around her neck flashed through her mind at lightning speed.

“I’m enjoying myself.”

“Enjoying yourself? With murder afoot?” Zulema asked, dramatically, a hand suddenly pressed to her own chest. Macarena laughed. “Any suspects so far?”

Macarena shrugged. “I haven’t spoken to many people, but Helena is on the top of my list for now.”

Zulema tilted her head to the side. “Oh? Why?”

_Because she thinks she still has a chance with you._

“I have my reasons,” Maca said. 

The main course —seared chicken, grilled asparagus, and jasmine rice— was served along with a crystal tumbler of a cloudy green substance. 

_The Necromancer_. 

“Dinner tonight is served with an absinthe cocktail. Drink at your own risk. _Buen provecho_.” Saray said and they tucked into their meals. 

“What about you?” Macarena wondered. 

“What about me?”

“Any suspects?”

“Everyone.”

“Even me?”

Zulema’s voice seemed to drop another octave when she replied, “ _Especially_ you, _rubía_.”

Macarena smiled. “Well, you can relax. I’m just an innocent bystander.”

“Sounds like something a murderer would say.”

“Or an innocent bystander. Look at this face.” Maca gestured a circle around her own head. “Is this the face of a murderer?”

Zulema took the offered opportunity to gaze at Maca, eyes tracing over her features. “Ted Bundy had a pretty face too, and we both know how that ended.”

Macarena’s dimpled smile was sudden, lighting up her face and Zulema seemed to understand the implications of what she’d said. 

_She thinks I’m pretty_ , Maca thought happily.

Zulema suppressed her own smile before shaking her and turning back to her food. “I don’t know what secret you have, Macarena Ferreiro, but I’m going to figure it out.”

“Well then, as Saray so eloquently put it,” Maca said, cutting into her chicken, “happy hunting.”

Across the table, Rizos and Saray who had been watching the exchange, looked at one another, knowingly.

* * *

Macarena Ferreiro was far from a lightweight. She could drink tequila until the cows came home and still be coherent enough to take a field sobriety test. Absinthe, as it turned out, was nothing like tequila. The first thing Maca noticed was that color seemed more… colorful. Her movements felt slower, despite the fact that she was speaking and moving at a completely normal pace. But the most exciting effect was that she could _feel_ the way every little touch set her nerve endings on fire. A gentle tap to her wrist to get her attention or a hand on the small of her back to squeeze past her all succeeded in doing one thing: turning Macarena on. 

She’d just turned to murmur as much to Rizos when a knife tapping against a glass caught everyone’s attention.

“If you’ll all be so kind as to follow me into the house, we have a special treat for you this evening.”

When Rizos said Halloween was Saray’s second favorite holiday, she hadn’t been exaggerating. The entire first floor of the villa had been coordinated perfectly with the evening’s events. Dark tapestry hung from floor-ceiling windows. The overhead lights were dimmed to the perfect setting in order to shine a spotlight on the flickering candlelight of the dozens of candelabras that were placed strategically throughout the rooms. 

They found themselves in a grand room, home to a baby grand piano and gleaming marble floors. The lights were just that much dimmer and the candles seemed to make the room feel a little more intimate that it was. Saray sat at the piano and started to play. 

_You lean on the edge of the bar_

_And you look at me_

_With such eyes and what if its a dream_

_You pass by me and say_

_Hello, your smile is like a little girl_

_Is this a crime_

_When you touch my hand_

_And I feel the sky_

Zulema appeared out of nowhere and as she began the next verse, she traipsed slowly towards the piano. 

_And I’m wondering if this a crime_

_When you passed behind_

_You touch my hips on the better sides_

_Laid out_

_And then I pass behind_

_And it's a game they told me not to play_

_And then you kill my doubts saying, smile_

_And then you hold my hand strong_

_You get me, you take me, you break me_

_Oh what a sweet suicide_

Zulema rounded the piano and leaned against it as she and Saray sang the next few lines to one another. It was slow, and dark, melancholy even, and Macarena didn’t want it to ever end. They were both equally as talented, with sultry, smoky vocals that filled the room. 

When they were finished, the room erupted into applause, Maca and Rizos’ the loudest and the sound echoed through and through. Saray stood and took Zulema’s hand and together they took a couple of bows. Saray walked towards Rizos whose arms were outstretched for a hug.

“You were so good!” Was the last thing Macarena heard Rizos say before she watched as Zulema disappeared from the room.

* * *

“Well, aren’t you just full of surprises?” Maca said when she found Zulema outside in the back garden, lighting up a cigarette.

Zulema chuckled. She took a drag and then blew a steady stream of smoke from her lips. 

“Doctor of psychology, profiler, professor, _and_ singer?” Macarena crossed the small divide between them and smiled. “Is there anything you _can’t_ do?”

“Trigonometry. It just doesn’t make sense to me.” Zulema joked, waving a hand at the idea. 

“No?”

“Well, now you have my attention. What else can’t you do?” Maca asked and she plucked the cigarette from Zulema’s fingers. Zulema was momentarily disarmed by the power move and the only way to regain the upper hand was to make a power move of her own. 

“Let’s see.” As she pretended to think, Zulema pushed off of the stone pillar she’d been leaning against and shifted until she was standing directly before Macarena. “I can’t cut my own hair. Tried a few times. The first result was disastrous.”

“That’s a shame.” Macarena feigned pity.

“I can’t ride a bike for too long.”

“No?”

“God no. The side cramps are a bitch.”

“Well, we all have our strengths and weaknesses.” Maca quipped.

“And for the life of me,” Zulema finished, “I can’t seem to stay away from you.”

It was then, and only then, did Macarena realize that her back was now pressed against the same stone column that Zulema had been resting against with mere centimeters separating them now.

“Why would you want to?”

“Moral and ethical conflict?” Zulema took a step closer and rested her hand beside Macarena’s head. She inhaled deeply and as she exhaled, she let her eyes drop the Macarena’s lips, her heaving chest, her heeled feet and back upwards. 

“Pesky morals,” breathed Macarena.

Zulema took her cigarette back and took another pull from it with every intention of shotgunning the smoke into Macarena’s mouth. She slowly leaned in, eyes bouncing from Maca’s lips to her eyes, giving the younger woman ample time to make a decision.

So. Close.

And then someone cleared their throat, forcing the two apart as if they’d just been caught planning a jewelry heist.

“Hate to interrupt,” Helena said.

“I’m sure you are.” Zulema replied. 

Maca slipped around Zulema, murmuring, “I should go.”

She walked swiftly through the house, passing guests as she went. She eventually reached the front hall, which resembled the lobby of a hotel rather than an actual house. There, under the cover and quiet of the otherwise empty room, Rizos and Saray sat on the left side of the grand staircase.

“Wait, Maca, where are you going?” Rizos called after her. 

“Yeah, we haven’t figured out who the murderer is yet!” Saray yelled. 

But it was to no avail. Maca just wanted to put as much distance as she could between herself and Zulema Zahir. Just as she headed down the dark path towards the front of the house, she remembered that she hadn’t driven. 

_Fuck_.

She reached for her clutch to pull out her cell phone. But her hands were empty.

 _Way to go, Cinderella_ , she scolded herself.

Rizos was sure to come out after her, especially seeing how upset she was. But there was no way that she was walking back inside. Taking the moments alone as a chance to breathe deeply and attempt to clear her mind, Maca put her hands on her hips and looked towards the sky as she paced up and down the narrow walkway.

“Get it together, Ferreiro.” She coached herself. 

Sure enough, a few moments later she heard the even click-clacking of heels on stone coming from behind her.

Finally, RIzos was there to rescue her, hopefully with her clutch in hand.

Except before she even turned around, somehow Macarena knew that it wasn’t Rizos.

“Rizos wanted me to give this to you.” Zulema said. Macarena turned around and took the silver purse from Zulema’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Zulema didn’t leave.

Maca noticed.

“Maca, look, I know this is complicated, but I find that I can’t stop wishing for Mondays. And yes, there are probably… no, definitely some ethical reasons why I shouldn’t do this, but--.”

Whatever she was going to say was caught off by the blonde rushing forward, arms wrapping around her neck, and Macarena pressing her lips against Zulema’s.

  
  
  



	10. Rules

Macarena had been kissed a lot. Some good, some not so good. Something that she’d come to realize about kissing men was that they either kissed like they were kissing a relative, innocent and composed, or they kissed as if they were in a hardcore porn scene.

Kissing Zulema was on an entirely new level. And it wasn’t just how she quickly embraced the way Maca launched herself at the older woman. It was also the way that one of Zulema’s arms wrapped around Maca’s waist and pulled her impossibly closer. And it was how her other hand slid up Macarena’s arm, across her shoulder and around until deft fingers were stroking the soft hairs at the nape of her neck. With one hair fisted into dark tresses and the other gripping Zulema’s dinner jacket, Macarena couldn’t tell where she stopped and Zulema started.

The absinthe had been strong, sure, but there was something about the softness of Zulema’s lips that told Maca that, even sober, she would always feel Zulema’s kisses everywhere. The tingling started at the top of her head and worked its way downwards, tickling her eyelashes and flushing her chest. Zulema’s hand slid into her hair and Maca moaned softly, giving Zulema permission to slip her tongue into her mouth, and suddenly that tingling feeling dropped into the pit of her stomach where it swirled into a fiery ocean of desire that flooded her panties.

Maca’s fingers released Zulema’s blazer and fell against Zulema’s waist, winding around until her fingers touched the warm skin at the small of Zulema’s back.

Zulema pulled away just enough to murmur, “Fuck,” into Maca’s mouth and it took every ounce of the blonde’s energy not to respond, “Yes, please”.

“Well, I came to see if you were okay, but it looks like you are _just_ fine.” 

For the second time that evening, they were forced apart. This time, by Rizos and the overjoyed visage on her face. Standing next to her, hands in the pockets of her tuxedo pants, was Saray, shaking her head with the biggest shit-eating grin on her face.

“Don’t stop on our account. Really.” Saray pulled a hand from her pocket with the sole purpose of making a gesture for them to continue. Rizos scoffed and took the offending hand, pulling Saray back towards the villa.

“Dessert’s in ten minutes, so make it a quickie!” Saray called over her shoulder.

Alone again, Zulema cleared her throat and exhaled deeply. “You know, it would be rude to leave before we find out who the murderer is.” 

Macarena nodded. “I guess it would.” 

Zulema stepped forward and Macarena let out a small noise that sounded a lot like a yearning whine. The brunette looked amused by that. Zulema ran a thumb underneath Macarena’s bottom lip, wiping away Zulema’s shade of lipstick in one smooth swipe.

“We should have drinks tomorrow evening,” Zulema suggested. “To talk.”

“No. No alcohol. I have to be able to think as clearly as I can with you around.”

A slow smile tugged at the corner of Zulema’s lips and she nodded. 

“How about just dinner?” Maca suggested.

“Dinner is a first date meal.”

Macarena tilted her head. “Brunch?”

“That’s what you have with your grandmother or gay best friend.”

“Is everything a debate with you?”

“Yes,” Zulema admitted. “Get used to it.”

“Fine. Let’s make a deal.” Macarena said.

“ _Vale_.”

“ _Vale_. If Rizos hooks up with Saray tonight, I pick which meal we have, and if they don’t hook up, you decide.”

“You have a lot of faith in your friend’s powers of seduction.”

“No, I actually have faith in _your_ friend’s.”

That made Zulema chuckle.

* * *

They made it back in time to write down their votes and drop them into the tophat before taking their places at the table under the watchful gazes of Saray and Rizos. Dessert was served, 

Saray was handed a piece of paper and when she opened it, she laughed aloud.

“Come on, Saray, don’t keep us in suspense. Who won?”

“ _Vale, vale_. So, will our murderer please stand.”

Macarena stood from her seat and smiled, waving at everyone. A round of groans went around the table from the people who guessed incorrectly.

“And our accomplice?” Saray prompted. No one else stood, and there was a bit of confusion until Saray’s bubbling laughter started and that’s when it dawned on everyone that Saray had been the accomplice. Macarena hadn’t even guessed that one correctly, mostly because Rizos had monopolized Saray’s attention for the majority of the night. Maca hadn’t even had a chance to speak to Saray.

“And how about our inspector.” 

A moment of silence before Zulema stood from her chair briefly.

 _Well, at least I’m not complete shit at profiling_ , Macarena thought to herself.

When Zulema sat back down, she crossed her legs and rested her arm on the rest closest to Maca. 

“Zulema also happens to be the winner of tonight’s games,” Saray announced. “She was the only one who guessed everyone’s roles correctly. She knew I was the accomplice and she knew Macarena was the murderer.”

A round of applause sounded. Zulema turned to Macarena, placing one arm on the back of Macarena’s chair and the fingers on the other tangled with Macarena’s under the cover of the table. She leaned over to mutter into Maca’s ear, “Caught you.”

Macarena’s thighs clenched together. Zulema’s eyes shot downward to witness the movement. Not that she had to. Not with the way Maca’s fingers had suddenly flexed against Zulema’s.

“How did you figure it out?”

As mysterious as ever, Zulema replied, “I think I’ll keep that to myself for a little while longer.”

* * *

As Maca’s luck would have it, Rizos had managed to keep it in her pants for the evening, even going so far as to take an uber back to Macarena’s apartment. They sat in the living room for a bit, talking about the dinner and how fun it was. Eventually, Rizos couldn’t take the small talk anymore. 

Hands cupping a mug of tea, Rizos finally said, “Maca, fuck the villa and its decor, what’s going on between you and Zulema?”

Maca curled up under a throw blanket, dropped her head back onto the couch, sighing to the ceiling. “I have no clue. I mean, obviously I like her. Who doesn’t? But I think it’s like you said, hookups happen at Saray’s dinner parties.” Maca shrugged and looked into her mug of tea, playing with the teabag. 

“I don’t know. That kiss seemed to say she likes you too.”

“She’s our professor, Rizos.”

“So?”

“So, it’s complicated, and I’m sure breaking some sort of unwritten rule.”

“Rules are made to be broken.”

Maca’s head lolled to the side to look at Rizos. “I’m not a rule breaker. Plus—.”

“Plus what?”

“Plus, we all had a little too much to drink tonight. That absinthe cocktail was pretty strong.”

“You’re kidding right?”

“No, why would I be?”

“ _Ay Dios_ , you’re never going to make it as a profiler if you’re distracted from the details by the beauty of your target.”

Maca lifted her head from the couch and looked confused. 

Rizos sighed dramatically.

“Zulema didn’t drink the absinthe,” Rizos pointed out. “She had a glass of champagne that she pretty much nursed all night.”

That… didn’t make Macarena feel any better. In fact, it made her feel a little worse. She groaned and her head went back to the couch. 

“What now?” Rizos half-laughed. “That’s a good thing. That means she was sober enough to make the decision to kiss you.”

“No,” whined Maca, “ _I_ kissed _her_! What if she thinks I’m just a drunk slut who goes around kissing people every time she drinks?”

“You’re overthinking this, _rubía_.”

“Am I? Or are you just underthinking this?”

Rizos asked Macarena how the kiss was even initiated. Maca went through the story from start to finish with only a few interruptions from Rizos in between. 

“She wishes for Mondays?” Rizos asked, one hand on her chest. “Why is that the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard?”

Macarena rolled her eyes. “ _Calla_.”

“Maca,” Rizos said sincerely as she reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand, “she likes you too. Zulema is just--.”

“Enigmatic?”

“Broken.”

That wasn’t what Macarena expected.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that Zulema’s fortress walls that are made of profiling and psychoanalyzing everyone are just a defense mechanism.”

“I don’t know if I have what it takes to break them down.”

“Well then, for the sake of your sex life, I hope her walls aren’t as impenetrable as you think they are.” Rizos laughed.

“You’re disgusting.” Maca laughed with her.

* * *

The blonde was awakened by the obnoxious sound of a phone buzzing on one of her bedside tables. Head still hidden under the pillow, she stretched her arm, blindly searching for her cell phone, to no avail. She pushed the pillow and blankets off, sitting up in bed confused. Then she felt movement. Turning to the side, she watched as a brown arm was also reaching blindly for the phone that was threatening to vibrate itself right onto the floor. Rizos grabbed it in time, rolling onto her back and pressing it to her ear.

“ _Dime_?” Rizos groaned. “Saray, it’s like six in the morning.”

Maca looked at the red numbers of the alarm clock that read 09:28. She snorted, rolled her eyes, and then lie back in bed, trying to get more sleep. Before her head could even hit the pillow, she felt Rizos jolt up in bed.

“What? When?” Then she smacked Maca’s arm a few times to get her attention.

“Ow! What?”

“Zulema wants your number?”

“What?”

“She texted Saray that she wants your number. Can I give it to Saray to give to her?”

“Yes.”

“What?” Rizos said into the phone. “Saray says she wants to get a late breakfast with you.”

Maca tossed her head back and laughed heartily. 

“She’s laughing,” Rizos told Saray. “I don’t know. Inside joke maybe?”

“I recommended brunch and _she_ said—… Nevermind, you had to be there.” Maca said. 

“Yeah, inside joke,” Rizos confirmed. She took the phone away from her ear and tapped at the touchscreen a few times. “Okay, I just sent you Maca’s number.” Rizos listened to something Saray said before laughing heartily. 

“What? What?” Maca asked. 

“She said we’ll be the best woman and maid of honor at your wedding.”

Maca rolled her eyes. “Maybe I should get through breakfast and pass her class first.”

Rizos was just about to respond when they heard Maca’s phone chime. In unison, their eyes widened and they both started tossing covers and pillows to the side to find Maca’s phone in the bed. Rizos lifted it up in triumph and handed it to Maca, who unlocked the screen and quickly read through the first message.

_Good morning, Maca. It’s Zulema. Would you be interested in having breakfast with me this morning?_

**_Of course. Did you have a place in mind?_ **

_HanSo Cafe? In an hour?_

**_See you then._ **

“I have an hour to look presentable.”

“Saray, I gotta go. I have to do damage control.” Rizos hung up the phone and jumped out of bed in the shirt and shorts that Macarena lent her to sleep in. She made her way to Maca’s closet and pushed open the sliding doors. Hands on her hips, she scanned the wardrobe. “Maca?”

“Yeah?”

“What the hell are you waiting for? Go shower!”

Maca scrambled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

Rizos sighed to herself. “These two idiots are made for each other.”

* * *

Maca lifted her blue-tinted sunglasses onto the top of her and scanned the café, almost immediately spotting Zulema in a corner seating area. In a men’s gray button-up, dark pants, and her clear-framed glasses that made Maca absolutely feral, Zulema scrolled on her phone as she waited. Maca took a deep breath, tousled her still damp hair to give it a little volume, and started towards the table. Sensing someone approaching, Zulema looked up from her phone and smiled when she saw Macarena. She sat her phone down and took her glasses off, smiling softly.

“Hi,” Zulema said. 

“Hi,” Maca replied as she sat down. 

“Thanks for meeting me.”

“Thanks for inviting me.”

They gazed at one another for a few moments. Then, the unlikely pair chuckled softly. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this.” Maca said, gesturing between herself and Zulema.

“Have a conversation? Normally, I say something then you respond and so on and so forth,” teased Zulema. 

“Oh, you have a sense of humor? Nope, this will never work. I’m always serious.” Maca replied in jest. 

“Always serious, and lacks time management skills. Your resume is writing itself.”

Maca’s feigned offense. “I beg your pardon, I’ve been on time for the last,” she pretended to count on her fingers, “eight classes.”

Zulema pointed to the menu, “Should I order you a cookie?”

Maca grinned. “No, I’m counting calories?”

“Why? You look amazing.”

That put a pause on their playful banter. Zulema cleared her throat and looked down at the menu, seriously this time.

“Thank you,” Maca said, sincerely.

It was weird how she’d gone from extremely nervous to absolutely comfortable back to nervous and shy in less than five minutes in Zulema’s presence. She’d always been confident but there was something about Zulema that made Maca want to please her. 

In more ways than one. 

“But I should be saying that to you. Last night, your outfit. You looked incredible.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Zulema teased. She laughed at Maca’s incredulous expression. “I’m kidding. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 

A barista came over to take their orders, and as she collected their menus, Maca took the moment to think of what she wanted to say next. 

“So, I—.” Maca started at the same time as Zulema began, “Last night—.” 

“Sorry, you first,” Zulema suggested. 

“I wanted to apologize for, you know, _lunging_ at you last night.”

Zulema smirked. “To be fair, it wasn’t an _unwelcome_ lunge.”

“I don’t want you to think that I just… _lunge_ at everyone after a couple of drinks.”

“I don’t think that.” Dark brows knitted together. “I just think we both should set some ground rules if we are going to be lunging at one another.”

Maca sat up straight like she did whenever Zulema emphasized the importance of a topic in class. “Rules. Okay. I’m ready.”

“First rule: no special treatment.”

“Fair enough.”

“Good. Second rule: we shouldn’t do anything that could get us in trouble on campus.”

 _Well_ , Maca mused, _there goes my desk-ruler fantasy_. 

“Okay.” The blonde nodded.

“And thirdly, I like to keep my private life private. And I know Rizos is your best friend, but—.”

“Say no more,” Macarena interrupted. “Something tells me if I told her anything, Saray would know within 30 seconds.”

Zulema exhaled in annoyance. “You have no idea. For exes, they sure do share a lot.”

“It’s weird,” Maca admitted. 

“Exactly.”

Zulema sat back in her chair, fingers picking at a loose string on the tablecloth. “Any rules for me?”

“I think we should compartmentalize when it comes to personal versus professional. Like if you’re mad at me for something, it shouldn’t be taken out on my work.”

Zulema nodded. “I agree.”

Their orders were delivered to their table and Zulema picked up her coffee and held it up. “To new adventures.”

Maca tapped her ceramic cup against Zulema’s. 

In the back of her mind, Maca kept hearing Rizos’ warning about Zulema being a softer person than she let the world think she was. 

And just before the bill came, Zulema looked up from her coffee and her dark green eyes shifted to Macarena and there was a look in her eyes that Maca couldn’t believe was there. But it hit the blonde right in her heart. 

_Please don’t hurt me_ , they said.

And suddenly, it was Maca’s mission to make sure she never did.


	11. Tribe

Macarena was lying upside down on her couch, blonde hair dangling to the floor, as she looked at her television. Feet crossed at the ankles on the back of the sofa and a phone to her ear, Macarena laughed freely. 

“Okay, so, now they’re at the bonfire and this is where it gets good. They’ll be able to see everything that their significant others have been doing on the island.”

On the other end of the phone, Zulema shook her head as she cut up vegetables for dinner, chuckling at Macarena. She looked up and was able to see the television from her spot at the kitchen island. 

The same TV show was playing, only muted, and Zulema struggled to understand the appeal of it, but Macarena apparently loved it, and so… she would at least _try_.

“So it’s a social experiment, basically.”

“If you want to look at it that way.”

“It’s the only way I _can_ look at it, otherwise what’s the point of it?”

“There _is_ no point, Zulema. _That’s_ the point.”

“Ah, so just a waste of time.”

“Exactly. It’s meant to be a senseless drama that helps you to escape reality. At least, for an hour.”

“Escaping reality is for people whose lives aren’t what they want them to be.”

Maca flipped over and pushed herself up completely onto the couch. “You can try, but you can’t ruin this for me. I am in my _Temptation Island_ zone.”

Zulema laughed and used the knife to shuffle the vegetables into the sizzling saucepan on the stove. “I’m not trying to ruin this for you. I’m just saying if you’re going to fill your brain with this useless information, at least take something away from it.”

“Like what?”

“If I told you that then I would be enabling your reality show addiction,” teased Zulema, “but I just think you can use your craft even in the most unlikely places.”

Macarena smiled softly even though Zulema couldn’t see it. “Oh, I get it, I’m talking to Dr. Zahir right now. I thought you were off the clock.”

Macarena could hear the laughter in Zulema’s voice when the brunette responded, “There’s always time for me to teach you a lesson.”

There was a pregnant pause where they both contemplated the weight of those words.

“I--.”

 _Didn’t mean it the way it sounded?_ That would have been a lie if the words fell from Zulema’s lips.

“I know.” Macarena confirmed because she knew that while they were both _there_ physically, they had yet to get there mentally and emotionally. 

And something within Macarena let her know that all three had to align before she and Zulema took the next step. 

Besides, for now, there had only been a drunken kiss and a few small moments shared between them. They’d yet to go on a proper date, but when they did, Maca hoped beyond hope that she and Zulema were as compatible intellectually and emotionally as they were physically. 

Lightening the subject, Zulema asked, “Okay, so what’s the narcissistic blonde’s deal? Is she with the sociopathic frat boy?”

Maca gasped. “You’re watching it?”

“Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, it’s _so_ a thing.” Maca said before launching into an excited explanation as to who the two people were. Macarena found herself explaining the characters to Zulema using psych terms and personality traits.

So maybe Zulema _was_ onto something.

* * *

Try as she might, Macarena was not able to squeeze her eyes tightly and wish away midterm exams. Come day or night, hell or high water, there was a book constantly glued to her hand and a pen and highlighters in every color close by. Her bathroom mirror was practically covered in neon-colored sticky notes for her study as she brushed her teeth and washed her face. Index cards littered the bottom of her backpack and handbags, alike, yet she still felt unprepared. 

Macarena was mainlining coffee to cram until sunrise only to regret it later as she tried desperately not to doze off in class. A task that she failed miserably during Zulema’s lecture one Monday morning. The loud slap of a textbook being dropped onto a desk jolted Macarena out of her semi-conscious state, eyes popping open. 

“Miss Ferreiro, sorry we’re keeping you awake.” Zulema scolded.

“Sorry, professor,” Macarena replied, sitting up straight and picking her pen up to take notes. 

When Zulema turned back to the blackboard to write something down, Rizos leaned over to Maca. 

“You know, you could get us all As if you just fucked her already, right?” She murmured.

“Calla!” Maca hissed back, nudging Rizos away with her elbow. 

“I’m just saying if you get with Zulema, maybe she wouldn’t be so serious all the time.”

“Rizos, it’s not going to happen,” whispered Maca. “What happened at Saray’s dinner was a one-time thing. Let it go.”

“And what about breakfast?”

“We talked about the fact that it was inappropriate and wouldn’t happen again. That’s all.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

“What are you, my ther—?”

“Ferreiro and Kabila, is there something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?” Professor Zahir inquired. The two women turned to find Zulema leaning against the front of her desk with her hands slipped into the pockets of her dark gray chinos.

“No, professor.” They responded in unison. 

“See me in my office after class. Both of you.” Zulema said. “For now, I think it’s best if you separated yourselves for the remainder of this class.”

“Thanks a lot, Rizos.” An embarrassed Macarena packed up her laptop and moved across the aisle to the empty seat on the end. And for the remainder of their time in Zulema’s lecture, she pouted and refused to make eye contact with either Rizos _or_ Zulema. 

* * *

Macarena and Rizos had sat on opposite sides of the waiting room to be seen by Zulema for what felt like ages. Rizos looked bored. 

Not that it mattered because Maca was actively ignoring Rizos attempts to get her attention, and her frustration presented itself in the form of her leg bouncing. Her mind couldn’t stop thinking up scenarios that would probably never happen. The first was Zulema kicking her out of the course for falling asleep. The next was Zulema being forced to write “I will not fall asleep in class” more than a hundred times. 

And she was just halfway through a delicious conjuring of thoughts of Zulema bending her over her desk and punishing her with that same godforsaken ruler from her fantasies when Zulema finally opened her office door. 

“Maca?”

Maca’s head shot up and she pulled her thumbnail out of her mouth. 

“ _Venga_ ,” the brunette summoned, gesturing with her head. The blonde stood and followed Zulema into her office. The soft clicking of the door shutting behind her sent chills up Macarena’s spine and she realized she was, once again, alone with Zulema. 

Not that anything _could_ happen, not without breaking one of their rules. 

“Sit,” Zulema told her and Macarena sat. At first, Zulema looked at the chair beside Maca, contemplating the closeness, before ultimately rounding her desk and taking a seat. Her hands fell to the armrests of her chair and she leaned back. 

“You look exhausted.”

“Cramming will do that to you.”

Zulema nodded. “I really wish you wouldn’t put so much undue pressure on yourself. You’re a smart woman. You’ll do just fine without trying to fit three months’ worth of coursework into a few hours.”

“That’s easier said than done, but thank you for the compliment.” Maca smiled at Zulema. 

“I can quote at least three different studies which prove that stressing your brain out can have effects that last well after college.”

“By scientists and psychologists who probably crammed all night in college to earn their titles.”

Zulema smirked. “True, but I’m sure they wish they were told what I’m telling you now.”

Macarena shrugged once.

“You know, there are all kinds of things that could help you relax and unwind.”

Maca’s mint green eyes flicked upwards to meet Zulema’s and in unison, they both seemed to realize what she’d said. Each looked away, their lips curling into knowing smiles. Maca reached forwards and tilted Zulema’s letter opener until it was set straight along the edge of her desk. 

“I’m sorry about class. Rizos can be… persistent.” Macarena told her. 

“Just keep in mind what I said.”

_Keep your head in the books and try not to let Rizos pull you into her party girl lifestyle._

“I will.” 

For a few heartbeats, the duo simply looked at one another as they both tried to decide what else could be said or done without breaking any of their rules.

“Would you want to go to dinner with me?” Maca blurted out. 

Zulema inhaled and reached forward to shuffle some unruly papers together. “I would.”

“Okay.” Maca smiled. 

“After midterms,” finished Zulema. 

“What?” Macarena asked. “But that’s a whole week away.”

“Well then, _rubía_ , you’ll have something to look forward to.”

Maca groaned. “Fine.”

“Fine.” Zulema repeated, smirking. 

It was nice for her ego to know that Macarena couldn’t wait to be alone with her in a less professional atmosphere. The feeling was mutual. 

But, at least for now, Zulema wouldn’t say as much. Hell, she wouldn’t allow herself to put too much energy into the thought. Mostly because there were things beyond Macarena’s current purview that kept Zulema’s emotional walls built high around her. Plus, there were _the rules_.

But there would always be that magnetic pull to want to touch Macarena. So when she dismissed the blonde, she went against her better judgement and walked the blonde to the door. Before she opened it, Macarena turned abruptly, unaware at home close Zulema was. Her breath hitched and as Zulema went to take a step back, Maca wrapped her middle and ring fingers around Zulema’s, stopping her.

“I really am sorry for today in class. It won’t happen again.” Maca whispered, eyes searching Zulema’s. 

“You can make it up to me by acing my exam.”

“Oh, but no pressure or anything,” joked Maca. 

“Exactly.” And as Macarena turned the knob to open the door, the blonde finally let her fingers go. “One week.”

“One week.” Zulema nodded. Maca disappeared out of the door to her waiting room and Zulema finally turned her attention to Rizos. 

“Kabila,” she sternly commanded and Rizos stood to her feet and headed to her sentencing. 

* * *

Loud knocking sounded at the door of Macarena’s apartment. She pushed her laptop away from her on the bed, adjusting the hoodie on her head and removing her glasses as she padded down the hallway and towards the front hall.

She peeked out of the peephole and sighed with a roll of her eyes. Opening the door, she leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms. 

“I’m sorry for getting you in trouble with Professor Zahir today.” Rizos said. 

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I’m really sorry and if you’ll let me, I want to make it up to you.”

Macarena squinted, suspicious. It was then that she realized Rizos had her messenger bag hanging off of one shoulder and in her arms was her laptop and a textbook. 

“How?”

Rizos turned to her left and said, “Come on, guys.”

“‘Guys’?” Maca asked, standing back and letting Rizos push open her front door. She walked inside, past Maca, and following her was Saray, who dropped a carryout bag into her hand.

“Yo, _rubía_ , where’s the kitchen? This shit is heavy.” Saray said, holding two more bags in one arm and a laptop in the other. 

Still in a state of shock, Maca gestured vaguely towards her kitchen before moving to shut the door. 

“Damn, Maca! Closing the door on guests is super rude,” came another voice. It belonged to Yolanda, the tall brunette she’d met in Cruz during the first day of classes. She held up two bottles of wine. “I wasn’t sure if you preferred red or white, so we got both.” 

And behind _her_ was Luna, the one who’d offered her a blunt in the club that very same night. 

“Listen, I come bearing gifts as well, but I can’t just wave it around like these _putas_ ,” teased Luna. She planted a kiss on Maca’s cheek and sashayed into the apartment too. Maca peeked out into the hallway to make sure there were no more special guests before she shut and locked it. 

“What is all of this?” Maca asked, walking into her kitchen where the group had congregated. She couldn’t help the smile on her face as she placed the carryout.

“Study party.” Luna said, pivoting so that Maca could see her designer backpack. 

“Saray, you’re not even a student anymore.”

“No, but,” she pointed a finger at Maca, “I _was_ Zulema’s TA and aced her midterm _and_ final exams with flying colors.”

“Well, then welcome to my humble abode.” Maca laughed. 

“Maca, glasses?” Yolanda asked, peeling the tin off of the first bottle of wine to reveal its cork. 

“Top left cabinet, bottom shelf.”

Saray began pulling the contents of the first grocery bags: candy, popcorn, chips, sunflower seeds, waters, and ready-to-drink iced coffees. 

“The essentials.” Rizos grinned at Maca. 

“Maca, that’s Chinese takeout. We just ordered a bunch of everything.” Yolanda said, pouring wine into glasses she’d found. At the mention of the food, Saray with a mouthful of popcorn already reached over and tore open the bag to begin pulling everything out. 

“What’s in this one?” Maca asked. 

Luna peeked inside and started to pull some stuff out. Toilet paper, paper towels. “Well,” Rizos told her, “with all of this food and wine, we figured we’d be using up your amenities, so we thought we’d replace them.” 

“You guys didn’t have to do that.”

“We know. We wanted to.” Rizos said.

Each of the women were handed a glass of wine by Yolanda who held hers up. 

“To success, ladies. May it always be _just_ out of our reach so that we’re reminded to work hard.”

“To success.” 

Their glasses clinked together and it was a done deal. They were all friends now. 

“Alright, the rules of our study party are as follows,” Saray announced, “no one tell Zulema I was here, and I won’t have to murder you all. Got it?”

“Whatever,” Luna said, grabbing a paper plate from the carryout bag to fill with food. 

“ _Actual_ rules of this study party is that we start with the classes we have together and then the ones we don’t,” said Rizos. 

“ _Vale_ , and no one leaves until they feel confident enough to take their midterm,” added Yolanda. 

They nodded in agreement and as the girls headed to the living room to start setting up their laptops and workbooks, Maca bumped her shoulder with Rizos’. 

“Apology accepted.” She told her friend. Rizos pulled her into a hug, grinning broadly. 

“I still think you could get us an easy A, though.”

Maca scoffed and rolled her eyes playfully. “ _Dios_ ,” she groaned, “give it up. It’s not gonna happen.”

Rizos shrugged a shoulder, a cheeky grin on her face, picked up her wine glass and headed off towards the living room. Feeling a lot less alone than she had been a mere ten minutes prior, Maca grabbed her own wine glass and started towards the living room, calling out, “Okay, who is taking Public Lecturing with Professor Palacios?”


	12. Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whatever.

_ The Academy, Friday, 19:47 _

“Let it never be said that a bottle of wine and Chinese takeout can’t help you pass midterm exams.” 

That was Rizos’ Friday night toast after five days of midterm exams. Post-Monday night study party, Macarena felt so incredibly grateful to Rizos and the rest of the girls for helping her get prepared. There really was no repayment that seemed sufficient enough, so she had called to invite them for drinks. Her treat. She recommended The Academy.

_ “For the atmosphere,” _ she’d told Rizos, who had seen right through her game. 

_ “You sure you aren’t just hoping to bump into your favorite professor? _ ”

She could lie to Rizos, terribly of course, but she couldn’t lie to herself. She  _ had _ hoped that Zulema would be at the bar, but they’d been there nearly two hours and there was no sign of the brunette. 

“Maca? Another round? On me?” Luna asked, pulling the blonde out of her thoughts. 

“I told you guys, tonight is on me. Just put it on my tab. Oh, and ordered some loaded nachos, too!”

“You got it.”

Macarena hadn’t seen Zulema since her midterm on Monday and it was true torture. They’d spoken on the phone a few times that week, but they were short conversations because both were so busy. She just wanted to see the brunette again. Be around her. Be alone with her.

“Earth to Maca,” Rizos said, snapping her fingers in front of Macarena’s eyes. 

“Sorry, what?”

She noticed the table had been cleared and Rizos was pointing a thumb behind her where the other women had disappeared. 

“Game of pool?”

A loud commotion came from around the corner of the sectioned off pool area. Boisterous laughter that belonged to Saray and Luna floated towards Macarena’s ears. Her heart was suddenly alight with the possibility that wherever Saray was, Zulema wouldn’t be too far behind. She followed Rizos to the pool tables and the moment she turned the corner, she scanned the small area. Zulema wasn’t there. Rizos magnetized towards Saray and she took the cue stick and chalk from her hands, suggestively rubbing chalk the stick while staring Saray dead in the eyes.

Maca scoffed, playfully, eye reaching the heavens. “Get a room, you two.”

“Thank you!” Saray exclaimed arm outstretched. “That’s what I’ve been telling her. What do you say? For old time’s sake.”

“In your dreams, Vargas.”

Maca sat her nearly-finished drink down on one of the high-rise tables along the wall. 

“Where are you going?” Rizos asked her.

“Bathroom. Watch my drink.”

“ _ Vale _ .”

Macarena went into the bathroom, pushing an abundance of alcohol out of her system. A toilet flushed a couple of stalls over and hers followed shortly after. And when she opened the door of her stall, she had to blink a few times to make sure she wasn’t drunk. 

Standing at the sinks, washing her hands was Zulema.

The brunette looked up and gave Maca a secret smile, but didn’t say a word. She turned back to her task as Maca crossed the room and dispensed hand soap into her hand to begin her own. She lathered her hands and rinsed them off, reaching over to flick a little of the water against Zulema’s forearm as she reached for the paper towels beside the brunette’s head. Zulema smirked at the water and allowed the reach across her upper body. Handing one paper towel to Zulema, Maca used the other for herself. Then she kissed Zulema’s cheek, tossed the towelette into the trash, and exited the bathroom.

A couple games of pool and across-the-room eye-fucking between Zulema and Macarena later, the two groups of friends decided to part ways. Rizos, Maca, Luna, and Yolanda headed back to one side of the bar, while Zulema and Saray headed to the other side.

Managing to keep her eyes off of Zulema for an entire half-hour filled Macarena with pride. Still, there was a giddiness about her that had nothing to do with the outrageously funny things that came out of Luna’s mouth. She knew it had everything to do with the fact that she’d gotten a moment with Zulema, however brief it may have been.

A little while later, the owner who also served as the bartender, brought over a round of drinks.

“A little birdie told me that you ladies just finished your midterm exams.” He said as he placed the drinks in front of them. “Congratulations, girls. I look forward to seeing you here in uniform someday.”

As the girls went about their conversation, he conspicuously placed a folded napkin beside Maca’s elbow on the table. She looked down at it and then back to him with questioning eyes. He threw her a wink and then off went on his merry way.

Maca pulled the napkin towards her and opened it.

_ Congratulations on passing my exam. Dinner tomorrow? _

Maca’s eyes snapped up to Zulema’s direction. The brunette, whiskey rocks in her hand, was gazing directly at her. Saray’s eyes were glued to the TV watching whatever game was on and paying absolutely no attention to Zulema and Macarena.

She gave Zulema a subtle nod and Zulema grinned into the next sip of her drink.

_ Holy shit _ , Maca thought,  _ I have a date with Zulema Zahir. _

* * *

_ Zalacaín Restaurant, Saturday, 20:02 _

With a classic-contemporary setting that provided the backdrop for cuisine that combined past and present, including an impressive tasting menu and half-portion options, Zalacaín was the perfect balance of comfort and intimacy. Macarena and Zulema were sitting in The Lounge at a table that was much too large for two people alone. The ambiance was lovely: beautiful flowers and candles flickering in the middle of the table. Good wine. Expensive food. Attentive waiters.

Still, there was something missing.

“What’s wrong?” Macarena asked.

“Hm? Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“This doesn’t feel--.”

“Right?” Macarena grinned.

“You think so, too?”

Macarena shrugged. “I just expected something,” she picked her own brain for the right word, “ _ different _ .”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t picture you as the deconstructed lobster bisque type of person.”

Zulema chuckled. “Well, I’m normally not, but isn’t this what a first date is all about? Impressing the other person.”

“I’m already impressed with you, Zulema. Besides, I’ve had haute cuisine. Practically lived on it my whole life.” Macarena made a cheeky face, her nose scrunched up, and shook her head. “It does nothing for me.”

Zulema pushed her whiskey rocks away from her and sat back. Tongue pushing against the corner of her mouth, she grinned as she signaled their waiter. 

“ _ Vale _ . Tell you what: I happen to know the  _ best _ place in the city to get lamb skewers and grilled potatoes. What do you say?”

“I say I’ll be the judge of that.”

* * *

They pulled into a residential complex filled with beautiful homes separated by two and three-car garages, and sprawling, neat patches of the greenest grass. 

“Where are we?” Maca asked as they pulled up to the house at the head of the cul-de-sac. Zulema drove the car into the driveway, put the car in park, and looked over at Macarena. 

“My place.”

She took in the surprised expression on Macarena’s face for just a moment before grabbing the key fob from the cup holder and opening her own door. 

“You coming?”

Still surprised, Maca quickly pulled herself together enough to exit the car and follow Zulema up the walkway. 

Once inside, Zulema dropped her keys in a stained glass dish on a table in her front hall before grabbing Maca’s hand and wordlessly lead her further into the house. Just as Zulema suspected, Macarena looked at everything. Over her shoulder, she watched in amusement as the blonde’s eyes bounced from wall to surface to ceiling, taking in whatever she could.

“Grand tour or food first?”

Macarena’s stomach grumbled in response before her mouth could.

Zulema grinned. “ _ Vamos, rubía _ .”

Despite her curiosity at what the other rooms of the brunette’s house looked like, she allowed herself to be led to Zulema’s incredible kitchen.

“Sit,” Zulema said and pulled out a high, bar stool and Macarena climbed up into it, giving her the perfect view of everything. 

Zulema crouched down to open up a wine fridge across from the stove. She pulled out a bottle and then reached high for two glasses. The glasses were filled halfway and one was placed across the marble countertop to Macarena. 

Then Zulema crossed the expansive kitchen again and opened the fridge, revealing an incredibly organized set up inside. Water, beer, and mango juices, all perfectly aligned on the top row, labels faced forward. Macarena squinted as Zulema knelt to open the crisper. The second and third shelves were just as put together as the first and it made Macarena briefly wonder if Zulema was obsessive-compulsive. Her eyes started to roam around the kitchen again. Nothing seemed out of place. Nothing. Even the labels of spices along the steel rack were facing forward. 

“Can I help with anything?”

“No, you’re my guest,” Zulema told her as she pulled out fresh cherry tomatoes, an onion, green and red peppers and a wrapped package of what Macarena assumed was lamb.

“I’ll feel awful if you don’t let me do something.” 

Zulema washed her hands and then the vegetables before returning to the large island counter space. Looking up at Maca, Zulema laughed at the exaggerated pout on her face.

“Fine,” she relented and pulled a knife out of a drawer beside her hip, “find us some music to listen to.”

“Point me in the right direction.”

Zulema used the knife to point behind Macarena into the dark TV room. Maca took her wine and stepped through the open concept archway into the next room, easily finding the lightswitch on the wall. The room illuminated softly, revealing exposed brick across the northern wall where an enormous tv was mounted high above an electric fireplace. A comfortable-looking couch, complete with a soft throw blanket tossed decoratively over the back, sat in the center of the room. She walked further into the room and to her left was a beautiful stereo system sitting on a floating shelf. Just below were several rows of CDs and below those was an extensive collection of vinyl records. 

To her left, on the easternmost wall was a glass and crystal vinyl player that looked like it cost more than Maca’s tuition. She peered through the vast CD collection before deciding on a Miles Davis vinyl. She put it on and within seconds, the place was filled with the soulful jazz tunes. 

While Zulema prepped their lamb and veggie skewers, Macarena took a lap around the TV room, trying to piece together Zulema’s life story with only a few photographs and knickknacks on display. She was just beginning to smell the sharp scent of food being cooked on a grill when she hit paydirt. 

There, on the metal and glass bookshelf above the vinyl player, was a picture of teenaged Zulema, middle-finger raised to the camera, and her signature smirk on display. She was surrounded by what looked like a group of bikers in front of a bar.

“Ah, you found juvenile delinquent Zulema,” came the brunette’s low voice from behind her.

Maca looked at the picture again and then over her shoulder at Zulema. "So you were a little badass, then?"

"Mm." Zulema hummed in amusement. "My mother says I was the only hell she'd ever raised. Everyone from my old life is surprised that I became a criminal psychologist instead of a professional criminal."

Maca grinned up at Zulema, her dimples deepening. "I bet you still have a little bit of bad in you."

Zulema's lips twitched in some semblance of a smirk. "That's for me to know…”

“And me to find out.” 

“Something like that.”

Maca kept perusing the photos, stopping at one that stood out from the rest. Maca touched the silver photo frame of a younger Zulema and an extremely handsome Egyptian man. 

“And who is this?” Maca asked.

Somehow, Zulema managed to tell an entire woeful tale in a single word.

A name.

“Hanbal.” 

Macarena wanted to ask. Wanted to know more about this person who obviously meant a lot to Zulema. But she could tell it wasn’t the right place, nor time.

“Come on,” Zulema said, grabbing her hand. “I’ll show you one of my culinary secrets.”

Macarena followed Zulema into the kitchen and out of the French doors that opened onto a beautiful deck that overlooked her lush garden. 

And, for the moment, Zulema forgot her melancholy as she stood by the grill and mixed up a mouthwatering glaze for the skewers.

* * *

Dinner was a success. 

Macarena confessed that Zulema’s lamb skewers were, in fact, the best in the city. They found themselves back in the TV den, sitting on the couch, each with their half-finished dinner wine in hand. 

“So, earlier, you said you basically grew up on haute cuisine. What do your parents do?”

“My dad owns a few restaurants. Mom was a chef for a while before she had my brother and me. Now, she’s just... a homemaker, really.”

Zulema's eyes squinted briefly. “You say that with disappointment.”

Macarena shrugged. “Maybe.”

Zulema’s body tilted forward just a bit, and she ducked her head to catch Macarena’s eyes. “Why the disappointment?”

“I don’t know. I mean, she tells these stories all the time about how she would travel to the most exotic places to learn how to create beautiful cuisines from all over. She would be asked to do residencies in some of the finest restaurants, and now,” she shrugged again, “now she just cleans the house and cooks for the family.”

Zulema hummed in understanding. “So, you think she left her dream behind because she had you and your brother.”

“I suppose.”

“That explains the cramming.”

Maca smiled and her brows knitted together in confusion. “How’s that?”

“You want to work hard. To go above and beyond in order to fulfill  _ your _ dream. It’s either because you don’t want to become your mother or you want to make her proud so  _ you _ feel like she didn’t leave her dream behind for nothing.”

“Profiling on a first date is very rude, you know.” Macarena grinned into the next sip of her wine.

“She says because it’s the truth.” Zulema teased.

“It is,” Macarena confessed. “I wonder, though, why do you psychoanalyze everything? Is it because of your control issues?”

Zulema didn’t say anything, but her eyes danced with a challenge. She was waiting for Macarena to continue.

“Something happened to you that makes you have to control everything that happens in your life. I mean, down to the smallest details. Your organized fridge and spices. The way you don’t allow anyone to help you in the kitchen. Hell, even your CDs are in alphabetical order. Your records are sorted by year.” Macarena watched Zulema’s lips part, but before the brunette could interrupt, Maca kept going, “Everything has to be precisely the way you need it to be so that you can reach the necessary outcome for you to remain comfortable.” She looked up and around, gesturing with the hand that held her wine glass. “That’s why we’re here, after all, on your turf. Home-court advantage and all that.  _ My guess _ is that it has  _ something _ to do with whoever Hanbal is and whatever he means to you. He wasn’t an abusive ex because then you wouldn’t have his picture in your house. And that ring that you wear every day, the one that you’re twisting round and round on your finger right now, tells me that you were married to him.” 

Zulema immediately stopped twirling the ring.

“So… messy divorce? Did he want kids and you didn’t?”

“He died.” Zulema blurted out. 

“ _ Joder _ , Zulema, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t know.”

They’re quiet for a few moments before Macarena asked the question that they both knew she was going to ask. 

“How?”

“He was murdered,” Zulema said and knocked back the remnants of her wine, setting the glass down on the coffee table, “by a psychopath that I was building a profile for when I worked exclusively with the CNI.” 

“Jesus. Did your profile ever help catch him?”

Zulema looked up and away as if she tried to collect her thoughts and emotions and it was all the answer that Macarena needed.

“So yes,” Zulema said, clearing her throat and looking to Maca again, “the emotional part of me thinks that if I can control things, there’s a smaller chance of my life spiraling out of control like it did when Hanbal died.”

“You are a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma,” quoted Macarena.

“‘But perhaps there is a key’,” Zulema finished for her.

They gazed at one another in silence. Macarena looked at Zulema with new eyes. And Zulema had finally figured Macarena out. 

The brunette shook her head and smiled. “You officially know too much and now you understand that I’ll have to kill you.”

Macarena’s head tilted backward and she laughed loudly. “Oh, of course. I would expect nothing less.”

“More wine?” Zulema inquired. Maca nodded and handed her glass to Zulema. The older woman stood from the couch, grabbing her own glass from the table as she went. Maca watched her carefully, studying the way she walked. The way she brought the corner of her bottom lip into her mouth as she opened a new bottle of wine and poured it into the glasses. And she noted that Zulema never did anything without a purpose. She gave her entire concentration to the smallest of tasks, and Macarena couldn’t stop her thoughts from shifting into a less-than-innocent zone.

If Zulema cooked food and poured wine and kissed with such dedicated precision, what was she like when she was trying to draw out an orgasm from a lover?

The blonde’s feet carried her from the living room to the kitchen where Zulema was placing a gilded stopper into the wine bottle. 

She observed Maca’s hesitant stride around the island. The placement of her hands on the edge of the counter as if attempting to stop herself from reaching out for Zulema. How her eyes seemed to zero in on Zulema’s hands. It wasn’t hard to figure out what she was thinking or feeling.

She smirked. 

And that seemed to be the thing that broke the handcuffs of Macarena’s self-restraint. She slid the glasses of wine and the bottle away from Zulema, sliding into the narrow space between Zulema and the counter itself. 

“Is there something I can help you with, Miss Ferreiro?” 

_ Miss Ferreiro, that was… hot.  _ Maca put a pin in that note to come back to at a later date. For now, she bit her bottom lip, head tilted coyly. She nodded, a deep “ _ mm-hm _ ” coming from her throat. Hands slipped up Zulema’s shoulders and around her neck and Zulema automatically wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her close. 

Maca angled in. Slowly, to give Zulema time to make a decision. 

And she did. 

She closed the eighty-percent distance, taking the twenty percent that Maca offered. Soft lips brushed against supple ones for about as long as it took for Macarena to inhale the fruity acidity of the sweet Lambrusco wine mixed with Zulema’s lipstick—  _ all-day matte, thanks very much _ . 

“ _ Joder _ ,” Zulema breathed and something inside the both of them just  _ snapped _ . 

In the blink of an eye, Zulema had Macarena sitting on the counter, unworried about spilling any wine on it. Nor was she concerned about shattering the glasses. All Zulema would concern herself with was the fact that Macarena’s kiss was all-consuming. Craving turned to raw hunger and Macarena was a full-course meal. 

“Zulema,” Maca whispered when Zulema’s lips found her chin. Her neck. The pulsing jugular that she nipped at softly. She needed to feel Zulema’s skin against hers, so she moved Zulema’s hand from her clothed waist to the warmth of her thigh, effectively snapping Zulema out of her spell.

“Maca,” Zulema panted, pulling her mouth away from the blonde and took a step back.

“ _ Que _ ?” Macarena asked, reaching out to bring Zulema close to her again. Zulema almost gave in, and Maca could see the internal battle playing out over her face. Her brows furrowed and she had to force her fingers to stop stroking the soft skin of Macarena’s exposed thigh.

“I really,” her fingers pressed a little harder against Maca’s leg, “ _ really _ want to get you in my bed, but--.”

“I know,” Maca said. She pulled Zulema back to her and this time, Zulema allowed her too. Their lips collided once more. Maca moaned into Zulema’s mouth and the brunette gratefully swallowed it as she wrapped her hands behind Maca’s knees and pulled her closer to the edge of the counter. Maca’s right leg instinctively wrapped around Zulema’s waist. One arm around Zulema’s neck, Maca’s other hand came up to rest on Zulema’s face. The touch was both desperate and tender at the once and it was a combination that Zulema hadn’t felt in a long while. It was a true lover’s touch and it was while Zulema was secretly desperate for more, something about this setting was off. She didn’t want the first time she took Maca to bed to be a quick fuck on her kitchen counter. She wanted  _ more _ with Macarena and that, in and of itself, was enough to stop Zulema in her tracks. 

Breath sawing in and out, Zulema pulled back, smiling when Maca tried to follow. 

“I am not trying to control this,  _ rubía _ .” Zulema gestured between their bodies. “It’s just been a long time since I wanted to be with someone more than just—.”

“Physically?”

“Exactly.”

Macarena understood completely. She wanted more too. 

So she let her hands slide down Zulema’s body until they were grabbing ahold of the brunette’s hands. She lifted one to her lips and kissed her fingertips. Her palm. The inside of her wrist. Zulema’s lips parted as she felt each of the soft kisses warm her skin. 

“You know,” Maca said, leaning in as if she had a secret to tell, “I’m an episode behind on  _ Temptation Island _ because of midterms.”

“Oh, for the love of—.” Zulema rolled her eyes as she grabbed her wine and started back towards the living room. Maca hopped off of the counter and followed suit, wine glass in hand. By the time she got back to the tv room, Zulema was already flicking through the menu to find the ridiculous show for her. She sat on the couch and Macarena sat down beside her, leaning close to Zulema who lifted her arm for Macarena to cuddle into her side.

Once they figured out which episode Macarena had missed, they snuggled in, a warm blanket draped around them, and they watched the drama unfold until their wine was gone and their eyes were heavy. 

And eventually, they were both sound asleep.


	13. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed season one judgy Maca. but I also missed season three sexual tension Zurena. so... here’s both.

The first thing Zulema felt when she woke up was well-rested. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so soundly, but she was certain it had been quite a while. The second thing she felt was the warm temperature of the body wrapped around her like a baby koala. She looked down and couldn’t stop the sleepy smile that spread across her face, nor could she stop her hand from reaching for silky blonde hair and twirling the ends between her fingers. 

Maca hummed her approaching wakefulness, brows furrowing in objection. 

“I can hear you thinking,” the blonde’s groggy voice murmured. Green irises wrapped in honey opened slowly and Maca looked up at Zulema. “What are you thinking?”

“That this is the first time I woke up with a woman I didn’t have sex with.”

“Oh, that’s _really_ romantic,” Maca teased, closing her eyes again. She felt as Zulema’s chuckle rumbled through her chest. 

“I thought you might like that one.” 

Somewhere in the house, Zulema’s phone started ringing and she groaned. 

Maca’s hand slid up her chest and rested on her face, finger tracing Zulema’s bottom lip. “What’s wrong?”

“I will bet my career that’s Saray calling.”

Maca pushed off of Zulema’s chest, letting the throw blanket fall to the ground. 

“Where are you going?”

“To pee. Give you a chance to talk to Saray.”

Zulema missed Maca’s warmth, but she was right. It was better if she answered Saray’s call the first time. Because of the tall brunette had to call more than once, she’d let herself into Zulema’s house with her emergency key. After directing the blonde to the master bathroom — _up the stairs, down the hall and make a right_ — Zulema got up from the couch and followed the shrill chime of her cell to the place where she left it in the kitchen last night. 

“ _Dime_ , Saray.”

“I fucked Rizos.”

Zulema looked at the wine bottle far back on the counter. A memory of Maca pushing it there flashed through her mind followed by another of Zulema picking her up and sitting her on the island. 

“How?” Zulema asked as she turned to open the fridge, pulling out fresh fruit, berries, and ingredients for breakfast.

“Well, she was sitting on my lap and my hand just—.”

“ _Ca_ _lla_!” Zulema chuckled as she popped a few blueberries in her mouth. “I _meant_ what led up to it?”

Saray started her story, stopping now and again for a hilarious anecdote that Zulema could’ve done without. She had just gotten to the point where alcohol was involved when Maca re-emerged from upstairs. She’d taken off last night’s makeup and finger-brushed her hair. And when she leaned in for a kiss, Zulema could smell her brand of mouthwash on the blonde.

The phone still to her ear, she pointed to the fruit and mouthed ‘ _eat_ ’ to Macarena. 

“Saray, you made your bed and fucked Rizos in it. Now you have to deal with the consequences.”

Maca’s eyes widened and she pointed to the phone. 

_They fucked?_ She mimed to Zulema. Zulema nodded. Maca found _her_ phone as well, and sure enough, there was a missed call and a text from Rizos waiting for her. 

_I did something bad last night_.

 **_Saray?_ ** Maca responded. 

_Yes_ , followed by a facepalm emoji immediately hit Maca’s screen and she shook her head. 

**_Late lunch/early dinner tonight?_ **

_Yes. My place, 4?_

**_I’ll be there._ **

Sitting her phone down, Maca lifted a strawberry to her mouth and took a bite.

Zulema watched her mouth. 

Maca watched Zulema.

The energy shifted and Zulema’s pupils dilated. It wasn’t hard for Macarena to decipher exactly what Zulema was thinking. She held up the strawberry to Zulema’s mouth. Zulema’s lips parted and Maca swiped the red fruit across her lips. Then she wrapped her arms around the brunette’s neck. Her tongue followed the path of the berry before dipping inside of Zulema’s mouth. Zulema groaned softly into Maca’s mouth, eyes closing briefly as Macarena pulled away. 

“Yeah, but is she going to leave her girlfriend for you?” Zulema asked. She started to prepare breakfast and it didn’t take long before the house was filled with the mouthwatering smell of bacon and eggs. Just before they sat down to eat, Zulema ran upstairs to change into sweatpants and a hoodie, bringing down a pair of sweats and a hoodie for Maca as she came back down.

* * *

After breakfast, Zulema drove Macarena back to her flat where they sat outside in the car for a few moments, neither wanting to leave the other.

“What are your plans today?” Maca inquired.

“I have a lunch meeting with some of the staff and then I’ll be free. What about you?” 

“Late lunch at Rizos’.”

They looked at one another for a few moments. 

“Ask me what you want to ask me,” Zulema suggested. 

It would be useless for Macarena to ask how Zulema knew she wanted to ask her something. The woman could read body language from a mile away and it was something that Macarena needed to learn from her.

“If it’s not late when I leave Rizos’, would you want to come over for a nightcap?”

Elbow on the windowsill, Zulema leaned her head against her closed hand and looked at Macarena. “Maybe. If I do, I still expect you to be on time for class tomorrow.”

“ _Si, profesora_.”

Zulema’s eyes flashed. Maca gave her a cheeky grin.

“Get out,” Zulema jokingly told her. 

They leaned over at the same time, meeting in the space where their seats were connected by the center console. Soft lips pressed against even softer ones and then Maca, in Zulema’s oversized hoodie and sweatpants, exited the car, heading into her flat.

* * *

The moment she stepped into Rizos’ apartment, all hopes of a quick dinner and long talk with her best friend were thrown out of the window. Yoli had opened the door with a broad smile on her face. As Macarena walked further into the flat, she was greeted by Luna who was rolling a joint on the couch. And then as she walked towards the kitchen to find Rizos, she saw Saray sitting on the counter beside the stove as Rizos stirred something that smelled amazing in a large pot.

“Maca!” Saray called, hopping off of the counter and opening the fridge to pull out a beer for their newest guest. Maca waved to everyone and then took the proffered beer from Saray. Rizos took Saray’s beer and handed her a wooden spoon, forcing her to take over at the stove. She took Maca’s hand and pulled her into the hall, voice lowered and pleading.

“Before you say anything, she showed up to talk and I didn’t want to be alone with her again so I text Yoli and Luna to come over too.”

Macarena put her hands up. “Where is Nerea?”

“On duty.”

“Are you going to tell her about you and Saray?”

“Do you think I should? It’ll ruin everything.”

Macarena leaned her head against the wall and crossed her arms.

“Don’t do that!” Rizos pointed at her.

“Do what?”

“Make your judgment face.”

Macarena fixed her expression. “Fine, but don’t expect me to be her best friend at dinner.”

“Just be civil.”

“ _Vale_.”

“Thank you.” Rizos opened her arms for a hug, and Maca rolled her eyes. She pushed off the wall and embraced her friend.

Back in the common areas, Maca sat on the couch beside Luna, shaking her head when offered a hit of weed. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and when she saw who had messaged her, a swarm of butterflies began to flutter around her stomach.

**_I’m sitting in this meeting and I can’t stop thinking._ **

_What are you thinking about?_ Maca typed, smiling at her phone. 

Zulema was still in her work meeting and she was thinking about Maca!

Three little dots appeared at the bottom of her phone screen and Maca’s smile widened.

 **_Of all the ways I can ruin you_** , Zulema texted back. 

_Who says I won’t ruin you?_

The three dots reappeared. Then disappeared. It took a few minutes, but Zulema finally responded.

**_Who says you haven’t already?_ **

Macarena responded to Zulema with an angel emoji before she was called to the dining room. The last one to the table, the only spot left was to the right of Saray. She tried to keep her attention on Luna and Yolanda. But at one point, Rizos had gotten up to use the bathroom and Saray turned to Macarena, gaining her attention by nudging her shoulder.

“What’s the problem, _rubita_? You’ve said maybe ten words to me all night.” Saray inquired.

”I don’t think it’s right that you guys are doing this behind Nerea’s back. She’s a good person. So, you and Rizos need to sort your shit out before someone gets hurt.”

“Hm,” hummed Saray, head nodding. “Zulema is a good cook, no?”

“ _Que_?” Maca asked, confused. 

Saray pulled out her phone and tapped at the screen a few times, scrolling until she found what she was searching for. She sat her phone on the table between them. “Couldn’t help but see that you had a hearty breakfast this morning.” She pointed to the photo that Macarena had posted on her Instagram story that morning. “Those plates were a gift from me to Zule a few years back. So, Rizos and I aren’t the only ones with a secret.” Saray tilted her head, made a tsking noise out of the side of her mouth, and then shrugged a shoulder. The brunette seemed more hurt than angry, and not all of the blame was on Macarena. Zulema was her best friend and she’d kept something from Saray. Something huge. 

Still, one picture wasn’t exactly proof of anything. For all Saray knew, Zulema had invited Macarena over for dinner to talk about a teaching assistant position. At least, that was the lie that Macarena told herself to make her feel better.

She locked her phone’s screen and before Macarena could respond, Rizos had plopped back down in her chair across from them. 

“What’d I miss?”

“Just showing Maca a funny Instagram post.”

“Rizos!” Luna pulled Rizos’ attention away before the brunette could ask to see the post. And Maca sighed in relief. 

Still, she had lost her appetite. For the remainder of their meal, Maca simply pushed her food around her plate and listened to her friends’ conversations. The worst part was that all she wanted to do was call Zulema, but… she couldn’t. 

_Was this a violation of their rules?_ She hadn’t technically told Saray anything, but it was her fault that Saray suspected. 

Stupid fucking Instagram.

She should have known better. Especially after Saray’s lecture on social media. 

_...I think Saray knows._

She hit send on the text.

Zulema didn’t respond.

* * *

It wasn’t too late when Macarena finally arrived at home. She was tired, but more importantly, she was anxious. Restless because of Saray, and even more nervous for Zulema’s response. Maca had checked her phone all throughout dinner, and then again before she drove home. She went through the motions of her night routine. 

Washed her face. Brushed her teeth. Combed her hair into a low bun and then opened a bottle of white wine in an attempt to calm her nerves. Maybe she should’ve taken Luna up on her offer earlier. 

She’d just gotten comfortable in bed and turned on the TV for background noise as she scrolled on her phone when her doorbell rang. 

She rolled her eyes, knowing it was probably Rizos coming to finally have a heart to heart. Maca was not in the mood. In a pair of shorts and Zulema’s sweatshirt over a tank top, the blonde made her way to the front door and unlocked it.

“Zulema,” Maca exclaimed in surprise.

Zulema looked much like she had that morning when she dropped Macarena off. The only difference was that she’d switched her sweatpants for a pair of dark cargo pants. Hoodie half-on and half-off and hands in her pockets, Zulema leaned against the doorway of Maca’s apartment and raised her brows. 

“It’s rude to let guests stand in the hallway.”

“Sorry! Come in.” She opened the door further, shutting and locking it behind them. 

“What were you doing?” 

“Watching TV in bed.” It wasn’t a lie. The television  _ was _ on, albeit muted. 

Zulema took Macarena’s hand and started down the dark hallway to the only room from which light flooded. Once inside, Zulema looked around as she kicked off her shoes. She turned and flopped down onto Macarena’s bed, feet crossed at the ankles. 

“Are you waiting for an invitation into your own bed?” 

“I’m just surprised that you’re here. In my bed.”

Zulema grinned and opened her arms as if to say ‘ _ here I am _ ’. Maca climbed into the bed with her and climbed up Zulema’s body until either of her knees were pressed into the mattress and she’d settled against Zulema’s lap. 

“Nice sweatshirt,” commented Zulema. 

Maca looked down and then back at Zulema whose eyes were dancing with mirth.

“Thanks, some hot professor let me borrow it.”

“Hm, sounds like she really likes you.”

“I hope so because I really like her.” Maca took hold of the strings on Zulema’s hooded sweatshirt and sighed. 

“So…” The blonde said, reaching for the white wine on her nightstand. She took a sip and then handed it to Zulema before launching into the story of confrontation with Saray. When she was done, and so was the glass of wine, she looked at Zulema, expectedly. 

And then the older brunette started laughing. Actually  _ laughing _ ! Maca’s jaw dropped.

“It’s not funny, Zulema!”

“The situation isn’t funny, but you have to admit that the foreshadowing of Saray’s social media lecture was incredible.”

Maca scrunched her nose up and tugged on the hoodie strings, tightening the hood around Zulema’s head. Catlike reflexes forced Zulema’s hands to grip Macarena’s wrists, holding them with one hand while the other loosened her hood, pushing it back. Maca’s eyes dropped to her hands trapped in Zulema’s and she squirmed in Zulema’s lap. Zulema looked down at Maca adjusting her position, trying to ease the sudden tension. She thought about how easy it would be just skip her hand into those tiny fucking shorts.

This was a dangerous game for them to play. The chemistry between them was unreal and it was getting harder and harder for either of them to resist. 

Zulema cleared her throat and let Maca’s hands go. “I guess I should know better than to keep things from Saray. After all, I did teach her pretty much everything she knows.”

“True, but still, I’m sorry.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

Maca nodded. “More wine?”

What Zulema wanted was a goddamn cigarette, if only to calm herself down. Shaking her head, Zulema gave her a throaty  _ ‘mm-mm’ _ and she pulled Macarena down by the strings of her hoodie, kissing her softly. 

Firm, warm hands slipped under the sweatshirt and when skin touched skin, neither of them could stop what happened next. 

Zulema lifted Macarena’s hoodie up over her head and off.

And then Macarena whispered into the next kiss, “Stay the night.”


	14. Body Language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert lesbian joke about u-hauling here*
> 
> also:
> 
> *read this chapter in public at your own risk*

_Stay the night._

In the moments after Maca’s whispered plea, Zulema could feel her self-restraint drain completely from her brain and pool between her thighs. The sight of Macarena’s hardened nipples peeking through the thin cotton of her tank top made Zulema’s pulse speed up and her hands ache to reach out and _squeeze_. 

If Maca didn’t stop her, she was not going to be able to restrain herself. Not with the blonde kissing on her neck, and _definitely_ not while she was rolling her hips and grinding down against Zulema. The final straw was when Maca nipped at Zulema’s pulsing jugular before biting down. 

_Hard_.

Zulema’s hands gripped her waist and rolled them to the right until Macarena was flat on her back with Zulema between her legs, the belt of her cargo pants pressed _exactly_ where Maca needed it most. Their lips collided once again. Maca took Zulema’s hand and rested it against her breast, showing Zulema just how much pressure to use. When Zulema did the same with her other hand, Maca arched into the touch. 

“ _Espera espera espera_ ,” Maca said. “It’s only been one day since we agreed to wait for,” she gestured between them, “this.”

She was right. Of course, she was right. Zulema pushed herself up until she was kneeling between Maca’s thighs. 

She nodded, trying to center her breathing. 

“Right. We were gonna wait until we got to know one another better.”

“Exactly.” Maca shifted until her elbows were propping her up. 

“So, let’s talk. Get to know one another better.” Zulema flexed her hands against her lap, keeping them from reaching out for Maca’s bent knees. 

“ _A ver_ , you already know about my family,” Maca mused. “Oh! I like to go to the boxing gym in my spare time.”

“ _Mola_ ,” Zulema replied. “I used to have a pet scorpion named Fatima.”

“Oh, that’s sweet.”

They stared at one another, each struggling to keep their hands off of the other.

“I think that’s good enough for now. Don’t you?” Maca quipped. 

Zulema sighed gratefully, “Oh, thank god.”

Maca’s hands immediately reached for Zulema’s belt, unbuckling it and then unbuttoning her pants. Zulema whipped off her hoodie and her mouth found Macarena’s again. Her palm flattened against Maca’s clothed center and she used the heel of her hand to add the perfect amount of pressure. That, mixed with Zulema’s lips kissing downward until her mouth attached to Maca’s neck, had Maca writhing underneath Zulema. The brunette loved how responsive the younger woman’s body was to her touch. Impatient whining filled in the silence as Macarena tugged unsuccessfully at Zulema’s shirt. She wanted Zulema naked, and she wanted her naked right then and there. 

Zulema, of course, wanted nothing more than to make Macarena wait, but when she exhaled Zulema’s name, the brunette found that Maca’s wish was her command. She pushed up just long enough for Macarena to pull off her t-shirt. Zulema’s bare tits greeted Macarena and the blonde wasted no time in pressing her hands against warm skin. She grinned into their next kiss when Zulema groaned.

Maca’s shirt followed the same path as Zulema’s and then her cute little shorts weren’t far behind. Zulema had to take a moment to witness the absolute beauty that was an almost completely naked Macarena Ferreiro. Whatever she was doing at the boxing gym was working for her. She was fit, but still so fucking _soft_ and Zulema knew she would not be able to keep her hands off of the young blonde. 

Running a sure hand from neck to navel, Zulema stopped at the waistband of Macarena’s panties. Then further down, over Maca’s swollen clit that she teased with the pads of her fingers. Maca’s knees pressed together forcing Zulema to stop her teasing to push them open again.

“I want to see you.”

Maca’s already choppy breathing became much more labored. Zulema tugged at the damp scrap of material covering her pussy and pulled it to the side. She dipped forward to kiss Macarena once more before she lowered herself between slick thighs and flattened her tongue against Macarena’s aching pussy. At the same time that Macarena cried out in pure pleasure, Zulema groaned in utter delight at the sheer taste of this woman. 

She was candy, and Zulema now had a sweet tooth. The brunette knew without a doubt that she would crave the taste of Macarena for the rest of her life. 

Macarena allowed herself to be pulled under by Zulema’s mouth as it worked wonders. She was pressed hard against Macarena, but the blonde grabbed dark hair and pulled her impossibly closer. Spreading wider for Zulema, Maca’s feet lifted off of the bed, toes pointed and back arching into the sensations that Zulema created inside of her. Tongue firm and pushing inside of Maca, Zulema hummed gratefully while coaxing more and more of Maca’s essence from her, swallowing it greedily. 

Maca’s mind registered the light and airy feeling that always came _just_ before she did too slowly and her eyes wrenched shut, tears forming behind her lids. Zulema was entirely too good at that. Tongue spiraling through wet silk and towards Maca’s clit, Zulema slid her hands up Maca’s thighs and rested them underneath of her knees, holding her wide open. Her lips wrapped around Macarena’s clit and she sucked firmly. Maca bucked upwards, crying out at the sensation. Her hips wriggled and her back arched almost to the point of pain and with a strangled moan, her body released every ounce of sexual tension she’d been holding in from the moment she met Zulema Zahir.

Zulema worked her through her orgasm before testing the waters by slipping one hand down and teasing the tip of her middle finger inside. Maca groaned and attempted to wiggle away from Zulema, but the brunette wasn’t having it. She raised on her knees again and then leaned over Maca, kissing her deeply while slipping the finger completely inside. Her ring finger trailed after, entering Maca and curving upward.

“You feel so good,” Maca moaned into Zulema’s ear. 

“Yeah?” Zulema teased her, lips finding Maca’s at the same time that her thumb pressed against Maca’s clit. 

“ _Yes_!” She clenched around Zulema’s fingers, hips tilting forward to take more of Zulema’s fingers inside. Zulema gripped Maca’s chin, turning her to face Zulema; the brunette wanted to see every little expression on her face. More importantly, she wanted Maca to see who was making her feel _this fucking_ _good_.

Not that she would ever forget, especially with the way she was exalting Zulema’s name, chanting it with every stroke of Zulema’s fingers. 

Sudden pulsing around her fingers forewarned Zulema to the flood gates that were about to open between Macarena’s legs. Doubling her efforts, Zule pushed inside as deep as she could and circled her thumb around Macarena’s clit. Shining eyes popped open, Macarena’s opened and her entire body shook violently as she came a second time. She pulled her face out of Zulema’s grasp, turning instead to bite Zulema’s arm, directly above her tattoo.

Zulema was pleased with herself. Macarena could tell because when she pulled out of Maca’s jerking body, she flexed her fingers, admiring the shiny result of her work. And then she lifted her arm to assess the bite marks there as well. She grinned at Macarena, cocked brow shooting up under her dark bangs.

“Shut up,” Macarena huffed, still unable to breathe properly. The words held no weight. Especially not when her body jolted as Zulema continued to gently massage her soaked pussy. “And why do you still have pants on?”

Maca pushed herself up, effectively forcing Zulema backward until she was on her knees and Zulema was propping herself up on either of her elbows. She made quick work of pulling off Zulema’s cargo pants and socks, throwing them off of the bed. 

Wearing black underwear and a smirk, Zulema looked—.

“You’re beautiful.” Maca blurted the words out before she could stop herself. Zulema looked… surprised. The good kind of surprised; like it’d been a while since she’s heard something that made her feel so oddly secure. Like it’d been a long time since she let anyone close enough to her that she even _needed_ to feel that safety. 

Maca remembered the way Zulema looked at her during brunch. 

_Don’t hurt me_ , her eyes had said. And the only thing Macarena wanted to do was make Zulema feel as good as she’d made Maca feel. 

So Maca lurched forward, tits pressed against Zulema’s and a hand immediately gravitating to Zulema’s side, holding her close. Fervidly kissing Zulema, Maca had a brief internal moment. 

_This is happening._ _This is really happening_. 

Off came Zulema’s panties. Maca wrapped her lips around one of Zulema’s nipples, squeezing the other as the fingers on her other hand slipped downward until they glided through Zulema’s smooth folds until they found treasure. Macarena strummed Zulema’s clit, swirling her own honey around it. Zulema turned her head to the side and slipped an arm over her eyes. But when Maca slid two fingers inside of her tight channel, Zulema pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and a groan came from somewhere deep within her. 

Maca smiled as she switched her attention to Zulema’s other nipple. She sucked softly and then took the hardened nub between her teeth as she pulled away. Zulema hissed in pleasure and her hips jerked against Maca’s hand. As it turned out, her body was just as responsive to Macarena’s touch; with every thrust inside of Zulema’s pussy, Maca reveled in the way Zulema failed to cover the heightened noises coming from the back of her throat. 

When Zulema came, she didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. Macarena could tell by the way her body bowed forward against Maca, and how her fingernails clawed down Maca’s back. 

“Oh,” Maca said, looking down at Zulema’s still moving hips and then back up at Zulema’s face, “ _Oh_! You’re—.”

Zulema nodded feverishly. 

“ _Vale,_ ” Maca murmured just before she lowered her mouth to Zulema’s pussy. In and out, her fingers pumped underneath her chin as Maca’s sucked Zulema’s clit into her mouth.

Zulema held Maca’s head exactly where it was, while she bit down on the fingers of one hand trying to stop the inevitable.

“ _Fuck_! _Maca_!” She called. “ _Don’t stop_! _Right there_! _Right fucking there_!”

So Maca stayed _right fucking there_ , tongue alternating between flicking round and round Zulema’s clit before sucking it back into her mouth. All the while, her fingers worked steadily to pull yet another orgasm from the brunette. 

The feeling was indescribable, and when her climax washed over her, it was so earth-shattering that Zulema actually thought she might cry.

Trying to catch her breath and gather her thoughts, Zulema reached for Macarena. The blonde crawled up her body until she was laying atop Zulema. Zulema wrapped an arm around her and allowed Maca to kiss her lips. 

Cheeks. 

Nose.

Neck. 

Eventually, she settled against Zulema, staring at the peaceful look on the brunette’s face. 

“Bedtime?” She asked. 

Eyes still closed, Zulema smirked. Maca’s surprised squeal turned into full-blown laughter as Zulema rolled them back over until she was on top. 

“You wish, _rubía_.”

* * *

“Isn’t there an unwritten rule that if the professor is fifteen minutes late then we can all leave?” Rizos asked no one in particular. The lecture hall was quiet, save for a few conversations in the back row that only started because of Rizos’ comment. 

“Probably, but she’s only seven minutes late. Everyone has a bad morning.”

Or a really, _really_ good morning in Zulema’s case because Macarena had awakened the brunette by sucking softly on her pussy until two hands found the top of her head and held her there until Zulema came. 

_Loudly_. 

And then, of course, there was the five-minute make-out session against Maca’s front door where Zulema kept pulling her closer despite whispering that she had to go. 

“ _Buenos dias_ , _clase_. Sorry, I’m late.” Zulema said as she entered the room. 

_How_ _did she manage to look as if she’d gotten nine full hours of rest?_ Meanwhile, Macarena had thrown on a hoodie underneath an oversized flannel shirt.

Zulema dropped her bag on the desk, and when she looked up, her eyes immediately found Maca. Maca chewed on the back of her pen, crossed her legs, and tried to calm her breathing.

“Today,” Zulema turned her full attention to the class, “we have two special guests, one of whom is an expert on microexpressions and body language, an important component to offender profiling. The other is an expert on using these specific tools in the psychoanalysis of criminals.”

No sooner had Zulema mentioned the guest speakers, two women entered the room. The first was Professor Helena Martin. With a roll of her eyes, Macarena sat back in her chair and her pen began to tap incessantly against her notebook. The second woman was a bit older. Short and stout. Her face was round, but her body was much smaller as if she’d recently lost a tremendous amount of weight in a short period. She had friendly eyes and a warm smile and Macarena recognized her as the kind of woman that could make everyone feel as if they were at home when she was around. She rounded Zulema’s desk and took both of Zulema’s hands on her own before kissing either of Zulema’s cheeks. They were close, it seemed, and Maca watched in amusement as Zulema peered at her class, clearly embarrassed by the show of affection. 

“Okay, let’s get started, shall we? I’m Dr. Soledad Núñez and most of you already know Professor Helena Martin.” 

Helena gave a small wave and a smile to the class. Maca scoffed under her breath. 

“Let me start by saying that while every human is different and the way we physically act on our emotions always vary, the one thing that we all have in common is our facial expressions. Specifically, our microexpressions. These are the small ticks and twitches that our bodies make during any interaction with another human and they can prove to be incredibly valuable in our line of work. May I?” Dr. Núñez asked of Zulema. The brunette gestured for her to do as she pleased and moved out of the way to sit on a stool beside her desk.

Everyone watched as the expert tapped at Zulema’s keyboard and then slipped a plug in the computer. In an instant, the whiteboard behind her lit up with images of three different well-known celebrities. 

“Who can tell me what this expression is?” Dr. Núñez asked. 

“Frustration?” Someone called from the back of the class. 

“Good answer, but not quite.”

“Embarrassment,” Macarena said. Dr. Núñez looked shocked. 

“Why?”

“I mean, I can see why someone would assume frustration from the knitted brows, but when you add that to the way their hands are touching their left brow and how they’re all looking down as if reliving a mistake in their mind, it seems more like an embarrassment to me.”

“You are correct. All three of these celebrities have a sex scandal attached to their names. These images are pulled from a press conference, an interview, and a social media video, respectively, where these three were apologizing to their fans for what they’ve done.”

The slide changed. The side-by-side images were moving this time. Only for two seconds each. “What about these? What are these people feeling?”

When no one else responded, Macarena spoke up. “Amusement.”

“Right again. How can you tell?”

“The barely-there smirk. The subtle inhale, and the way they all readjust their posture. It looks like they have a good secret but won’t ever tell. It’s the same look Dr. Zahir gets before she surprises us with a pop quiz.”

The entire lecture hall broke into a small bout of laughter, including the three instructors at the front of the class. 

“Okay, here is the last slide, these are a bit harder.” 

_Barely_ , Macarena mused inwardly. 

“Anger.”

“Now you’re just making stuff up. Their faces didn’t even move!” Rizos joked and the class laughed again. 

“No, really,” Maca replied, pointing to the screen. “Look at the defensive posture and clenched jaw. The dude on the left looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel.”

“You are right,” Dr. Núñez chuckled. “It’s hard to tell with just one or two of these details, but when you combine them all, you have what is called involuntary nonverbal communication.”

“Exactly,” Helena chimed in. “And then people like me put together all of these factors and they can help to build a profile on a criminal.”

“ _De verdad._ We’ve even used this sort of science to help understand if someone is lying and we have even helped to stop acts of terror. Essentially, this ‘pseudoscience’, as most people still call it, could quite possibly make beatable polygraphs a thing of the past.”

Macarena was intrigued. Reading other people for a living? It seemed easy enough and the thought of being a human lie detector would make dating _so_ much easier. She made a mental note to do some research on the field.

Dr. Núñez clasped her hands together. “Today, Zulema, Helena, and I are going to play a little game where I am going to read them. I want you all to write down a question on a piece of paper and pass it to the front. I’ll ask each of the questions at random in between what are called baseline questions. A baseline question is one that’s used to establish how their bodies and faces react to a factual question. For example,” Dr. Núñez turned to Zulema, “is your name Dr. Zulema Zahir?”

“Yes,” Zulema responded. Right before Maca’s eyes, Zulema’s posture seemed to relax and she even cracked a small smile as she nodded in the affirmative. 

The game was fun enough, most people had written down pretty tame questions that they wanted to know about Zulema. 

‘Do you have kids?’, ‘How old are you?’, ‘Do you like your job?’ were among the top-ranking questions. 

Zulema answered them all honestly and Dr. Núñez pointed out Zulema’s body language and facial movements for the class to see. Helena explained the psychoanalysis behind each movement and why humans used them as defense mechanisms or indicators of positive behavior. 

The final question picked out and asked by Helena, “Would you ever date one of your students?”

Zulema’s eyes flashed and broke contact with Dr. Núñez as she readjusted the lapels of her blazer before clasping her hands together. “No.”

Dr. Núñez’s eyes squinted and Zulema prayed to God that she would let it go. 

“As always, Zulema, you’re the only one who manages to stump me.” Dr. Núñez smiled softly. Zulema breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to Soledad for not calling her out in front of her entire class. 

“Well,” Helena said, checking her watch, “I think we’ve taken up enough of your time.”

Zulema checked her own watch and then hopped off of the stool. “Class dismissed. The homework you all have is to enjoy your holiday break and I’ll see you all the following Monday.”

Macarena couldn’t help herself. She desperately wanted to speak with Dr. Núñez. She made their way to the front of the class and held out her hand.

“Dr. Núñez, I’m Macarena Ferreiro. I just wanted to say this was one of the most astounding lectures I’ve witnessed.”

“Sole, please,” the older woman replied and took Maca’s hand into both of hers, “and I must say, I am equally as impressed with you. I believe you are what we call an ‘Instinctual’.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s someone who is born with the ability to focus on microexpressions without any formal education or training.” Sole reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to Maca, “If you’re interested in learning more, here’s my card. Feel free to call me anytime.”

“I will. Thank you. It was a pleasure meeting you.” 

Sole smiled and shook Maca’s hand again. The blonde shot a glance at Zulema who had been watching the entire interaction while leaning against her desk with her arms crossed.

“Sole, I hope you’re not trying to steal my best student. I have big plans for her with the CNI.”

Maca beamed. 

Sole looked between Macarena’s brightened expression and Zulema’s playfully defensive demeanor. 

“Something tells me I would be chasing the impossible.”

Rizos approached and tossed an arm around Maca’s neck. “Loved the lecture, doc. I’ve got to steal this one or we won’t make it to Professor Palacios class on time.”

Maca waved again to Sole and allowed herself to be pulled from the lecture hall by her best friend. Not long after, Sole made Zulema promise that they would get together for a meal soon before she headed off as well, leaving Zulema with Helena.

“Let’s get into something tonight. Dinner. Dancing. Something fun.”

“I can’t. I have plans.” She had promised Macarena that she’d sleep over again. Not that much sleeping seemed to happen the first time around. 

“Anything good.”

“I have office hours tonight and then dinner plans.” 

_Main course: Macarena Ferreiro._

“If I didn’t know you any better, Zulema, I’d say you were hiding something from me.”

“Well then,” Zulema said, shutting her laptop and slipping it into her messenger bag, “maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

* * *

_Macarena’s apartment, 21:21_

“So, you and Helena, huh?”

Zulema stopped kissing Maca’s neck. Her forehead dropped against the younger woman’s shoulder and she groaned. To be fair, she knew this conversation was coming. Zule could feel the waves of jealousy radiating off of the blonde from the moment Helena stepped into the lecture hall earlier. 

She just didn’t expect Helena to be the subject while a still-damp, towel-clad Macarena was sitting on her lap. 

“We have to work on your dirty talk.”

“Zulema.” Maca crossed her arms. 

“ _Joder_ .” Zulema leaned her head back onto the couch, hands still on Maca’s thighs, and cleared her throat. “ _Vale_ , tell me what you’re feeling. Come on.”

Maca shrugged. “I don’t get it.”

“What?”

“Helena. What you saw in her. She’s a narcissist.”

Zulema looked impressed. “What else?”

“Her books aren’t even that good.”

“Oh?” Zulema was entertained. Maca’s pout deepened. “And what else?”

“And she has stupid hair.” 

Zulema laughed. She pulled at Macarena’s arms until they unfolded and forced the blonde to place them around her neck. In turn, she wrapped her arms around Maca’s waist and started to kiss her neck again. 

“No wonder I don’t want her. What with her boring books,” another kiss to the opposite side of Maca’s neck, “and stupid hair.”

Maca craned her neck to give Zulema better access, pout yet to disappear. “And her narcissism,” she reminded Zulema. 

“Of course.” Zulema placated the softening blonde. Just as Zule began tugging at the powder blue towel, Maca leaned back, holding it closed.

“You know she still thinks she has a chance with you.”

Zulema sighed. “She doesn’t.”

“Think that?”

“Have a chance,” Zulema clarified.

“Why not? You’re _technically_ still a single woman.”

Macarena was fishing for information on where Zulema’s head was and she was not as subtle as she thought.

“Am I?” 

Arms crossed again, Maca feigned disinterest as she shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. Are you?”

“Well, let’s see,” Zulema pretended to think. “I only spend time with one woman. I only think about woman one. I only kiss one woman.” She kissed Maca’s lips. One hand slid under her towel and through wet folds. “And I’m only _fucking_ ,” two fingers slipped inside of Maca with embarrassing ease, and the blonde’s eyes closed, “one woman.”

“Zulema,” Macarena exhaled her name like a prayer. 

Looking up at the blonde’s expression, Zulema had to ask, “Do you always get this wet this fast?”

Macarena shook her head, eyes closing and hips moving. “Only for you.”

Maybe Maca was better at dirty talk than Zulema gave her credit for. She traced wet circles around Maca’s clit with her thumb and she leaned forward, sucking one of Maca’s hardened nipples into her mouth. 

“Yeah,” Maca panted hotly. 

A twist of her hips.

A squeeze of her inner muscles. 

“Zulema, _por favor_.”

“I’m right here.” Though one couldn’t tell with the way Maca was gripping her bomber jacket, trying to pull her closer.

“Please. More.”

“Oh, I know what you need.” Zulema grinned and alternated between squeezing Maca’s tits with her free hand. Maca continued rocking against Zulema, riding her fingers. “Open your eyes,” Zulema demanded. 

Macarena did, trying her hardest to keep them open as Zulema began to stroke at the _perfect_ place inside of her. 

“Maca, do you want to be my _girlfriend_?” Zulema asked, a wicked grin on her face. Maca’s pussy tightened around Zulema’s fingers as they strummed against her g-spot.

“ _Yes!_ ” Maca cried out as she came, her delight seeping down into Zulema’s palm. 

Zulema smiled and gave Maca a quick, chaste kiss as she pulled out of her. “That’s all you had to say.”

Maca took Zulema’s wet hand and started to dry her fingers on the towel. “Fall break starts this Thursday.”

It was strange, really, the way they could fall easily into a normal conversation as if Zulema didn’t just force her to confess her feelings while she orgasmed. Almost as if they’d been doing this forever.

“So it does.”

“I told my brother and parents that I will go and visit for the weekend, but I’ll be back on Sunday.”

“Okay.” 

Zulema’s words don’t give much away. Ever. But it was the almost undetectable squint of her eyes and twitch of the corner of her mouth that let Macarena know that Zulema was amused. 

“Is this the part where I solemnly swear that I won’t hit a strip club with Saray while you’re away this weekend?”

“No, this is the part where I fuck your brains out to give you something to remember me by while I’m gone. _Venga_.” Macarena climbed off of Zulema’s lap and took the older woman’s hand in her own, pulling her up.

* * *

Zulema had _just_ started to drift off to sleep when she felt Maca’s fingertips tracing the lines of her face. 

“ _Detente, rubía_ ,” Zulema muttered. 

Down her nose, across her lips. And then there was a pause in her movements before Maca slid her finger down Zulema’s tattoo. Zulema inhaled deeply. 

She knew what was coming next. 

“Tell me about your tattoo.”

“ _Joder._ ”

Well, she was up now. Zulema’s arm reached over to her bedside table, blinding reaching for her cigarettes and lighter. She found them, pulled one from the pack, and lit it. Once she’d taken a hit, she exhaled her nerves and looked down at the blonde woman snuggled against her side. 

“I don’t cry,” Zulema explained. “Well, not anymore.”

“Ever?”

Zulema shook her head and took another drag. “When Hanbal was killed, I cried for months. Every morning when I woke up and every night when I got home. Then one day I just didn’t. Couldn’t, really. I was just numb for a while.” Zulema blew out a stream of smoke and offered the cigarette to Maca who took it. “That was the day I met Helena. We fucked a few times and the guilt was unbearable. I woke up one morning and thought ‘am I betraying him? Forgetting him?’ So,” she shrugged and tapped at her face, “I got this. I don’t know, I guess I figured that every time I looked in the mirror, at least I’d never forget.”

“Zulema, you punished yourself. You deserve to be happy, you know?”

Zulema took the cigarette back, took one last puff, and then extinguished it in the ashtray on the nightstand. It sounded nice, the idea that she could find happiness again. 

What was also nice was the disgustingly warm feeling in her heart that was trying to tell her that Maca was right.


	15. Cold Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ash: I know exactly where I'm going with this.  
> also ash: oh shit, it's chapter 15, here's some plot.

Thursday came around much quicker than Macarena would have liked. After her final class of the day, Maca headed home and packed her weekender with everything she would need during the fall break. By the time she finished, she realized that it was just past three and if she wanted to get to her parents before it got dark, she should hit the road.

But first, she’d promised Zulema that she would say goodbye before she did.

Back on campus, Maca parked in the car lot in front of the building where Zulema’s office was located. The entire campus was practically a ghost town. She headed inside and up the stairs. It was strange seeing that Maria, Zulema’s assistant, was absent from her post in the waiting room, but not unexpected. She was a student, after all, and had probably gone home for break.

Zulema’s office door was partially ajar and she rapped twice on it, peeking her head inside. Zulema looked up from the documents before her. When she spotted her favorite blonde, she shut the file quickly, offering her a small smile. 

“Maca. Come in.” 

Maca pushed the door open wider and Zulema’s lips parted. 

“ _ Guau _ .”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Zulema replied, leaning back, “I just discovered something about myself.”

Maca shut the door behind her and walked further into the office, dropping her car keys and clutch on Zulema’s desk. She walked around it until she stood before her. 

“And what exactly would that be?”

Zulema’s eyes dropped below Maca’s face to take in her crewneck sweater and button-up combo. It was paired beautifully with a chiffon miniskirt, wool thigh-high socks, and heeled booties to create a perfect fall look. It also served to drive Zulema absolutely wild. 

“I think I like you in miniskirts.” 

Macarena’s dimple appeared and Zulema ached to pull the blonde to her and kiss it. But they were on campus. In her office. 

And there were rules. 

_ Stupid fucking rules _ thought Zulema.

Macarena looked just as pained that she couldn’t reach out to touch Zulema. 

“Are you all packed and ready?”

“Yeah.” Maca thrust a thumb over her shoulder. “I’m actually on my way now. I just stopped by to see you before I go.”

Against her better judgment, Zulema reached out to finger the material of Macarena’s skirt. “Are you gonna miss me?” She asked. 

Macarena was going to respond except Zulema’s finger trailed down until it reached soft skin before hooking into the elastic of her thigh-high socks and tugging gently. Macarena watched Zulema’s bottom lip pulled between her teeth and it wasn’t hard for her to figure out what was on the professor’s mind. 

“Yes.” The breathless response sounded so sincere, but also so very much like permission to keep moving her fingers up and down Maca’s thigh. Zulema’s eyes met Maca’s and they were wide and earnest. She wanted to say it back, to tell Macarena that she would miss her too because it was her truth. But it was unlike her to be so transparent. So, instead, Zulema smiled and said, “Good.”

Each gazed at the other for a few passing moments, both wondering how easy it would be to yield on the rules for just a moment so they could kiss. Zulema exhaled a puff of laughter, shaking her head. If they kept this up, kept looking at one another like they were ready to pounce, they really would. “You should go before it gets too late.”

_ Late. _

That made Macarena smile. 

And then it gave her an idea. She looked at the clock on the shelf behind Zulema. 

There was time. 

“ _ Sabes _ ,” Macarena purred, “ _ you _ were late to class this week, Dr. Zahir.”

She pulled herself up onto Zulema’s desk. 

“Maca,” Zulema warned, but her eyes dropped to her bare thighs and knee-high socks. “We’re at school.”

“Yes, but ‘in this class, we don’t tolerate excuses absences  _ or _ latenesses’, do we?”

Zulema swallowed and her head shook slightly. “No.”

Maca readjusted her position on the desk, legs spread wide, feet on either arm of Zulema’s chair. Her skirt shifted just enough for Zulema to see that she was, at the very least, wearing panties.

“ _ What _ , I wonder, should be your punishment?”

It amused Zulema that Maca thought she had the upper hand. Her hands touched the blonde’s ankles and as they trailed up, Zulema rose from her chair until was leaning over Maca and her hands were on the blonde’s waist. 

“Bold of you to assume, I’ll be the one receiving a punishment.”

Maca’s lids fluttered and her panties dampened. 

“You, Miss Ferreiro, are breaking one of the rules.” Zulema inhaled through her nose and shook her head, feigning disappointment. 

“ _Lo_ _siento, profesora_.”

“Oh, you’re not sorry yet.” Zulema rose to her full height, hands slipping into the pockets of her pants. “But you will be.”

It was Maca’s turn to swallow harshly. 

“Stand up.”

Maca stood. Zulema made a spinning gesture with her pointer finger and Macarena turned around.

“Hands on the desk.”

_ Oh fuck _ . 

She placed her palms in the center of the desk and had the most delightful sensation of  _ déjà vu _ . The warmth of Zulema’s body heat disappeared and out of her peripheral, Macarena watched as Zulema crossed her office to lock the door. Then, as she made her way back to Macarena, her hand reached out and pulled the dark drapes closed. She resumed her rightful place behind Macarena, hands immediately gravitating to her thighs. Up they moved, until they slipped under her skirt, pushing it up and over her ass. Zulema found the top of her cheeky panties and she tugged, slipping them over the curve of Macarena’s thighs, down her legs and off. Squeezing one globe, Zulema used her other hand to push Macarena against the desk.

Then there was silence as Zulema took in Maca’s perfect body bent over the desk; face down and ass up. She wasn’t sure there’d ever been a more beautiful sight. It had always been a secret fantasy of hers to have sex on her office desk. 

But, the rules had always been in place. 

Even with Hanbal. 

It was hard for a woman in her field to be taken seriously, so Zulema was always been determined to remain professional while she was on campus. 

But there was something about Macarena Ferreiro that she couldn’t put her finger on that made her want to break all of the rules.

A drawer opened to Macarena’s right, then shut. The next one that opened came from her left. A few rustling sounds followed by Zulema making a hum of satisfaction. Try as she might, Maca couldn’t see what Zulema had retrieved and it filled her with a nervous excitement.

Macarena jumped when she felt the cool sensation of something running up her left leg while the warmth of Zulema’s body pressed itself against her back. Her eyes closed briefly and then she heard metal clank against the desk. 

“Hm?” Zulema said in question. Maca turned and looked down to see a gold-plated metal ruler in Zulema’s closed fist. The blonde could stop the moan if she tried. This was her very fantasy coming to life.

She nodded in the affirmative and that was enough for Zulema. She pressed a quick, rough kiss to Maca’s lips and then pushed off of Maca’s body. 

Unprepared for the pleasurable sting of the ruler, Maca moaned. Her hands reached the other side of the desk, curling around the lip and she prepared herself for the next spank. When it came, her pussy clenched and she cried out. 

Again and again, Zulema alternated spanking either side of Maca’s ass and then soothing the warm skin by squeezing it firmly. By the time Zulema got to number ten, Macarena was a sobbing mess and the evidence of her gratification was sticking to her inner thighs. 

“Please, Zulema!” Maca whined, ass poking out just _that_ _much more_. And _thank fuck_ that Zulema took the hint because Maca wasn’t sure she would be able to form the right words. 

She heard the wind from the ruler’s arc before she felt the sharp slap against cunt. Her inner muscles fluttered and no sooner did she think she was going to come from the spanking alone, the ruler clattered against the desk as Zulema dropped it and then, Maca felt Zulema’s fingers enter her from behind.

“Oh, god,  _ yes _ !”

Zulema pumped in and out, working hard to bring Macarena to her peak. She shushed the blonde’s heightened moans, threatening her with more punishment as she railed into her from behind, but that only served to egg her on.

“I want to see you come,” Zulema whispered and whirled her around, picked her up, promptly sitting Macarena on the edge of the desk. She lifted one of Maca’s legs until her ankle met Zulema’s shoulder and then slipped back inside. 

Maca’s hands went for Zulema’s pants, undoing them until she could wiggle her hand inside. In between soft skin and the rough material of her pants, Maca found liquid gold. She wasted no time sliding inside of Zulema, pressing her thumb against the brunette’s clit. She worked them in and out, determined to make Zulema come with her. Zulema gripped Maca’s chin, holding her gaze as Maca’s hips rocked forward. 

“You feel me?” Zulema gritted through clenched teeth. She was trying to hold off her own impending orgasm. And Maca knew it. And she knew what Zulema wanted to hear. 

“ _ Yes _ ,” she moaned. “You feel so fucking good.”

Zulema groaned in response and doubled her efforts. She was close and Maca was—.

“ _ Don’t stop. I’m gonna come _ .” She added a third finger inside of Zulema and Zulema’s hand slipped from her face. It found purchase against Maca’s waist and squeezed as she worked hard to keep her legs from giving out. Her face fell into Maca’s neck and it muffled her loud moan as Maca’s fingers massaged her inner walls.

The desk quaked but took their frantic motions and Maca’s added weight in stride.

“Kiss me,” Zulema panted because they had already crossed so many lines in this office. What harm would one more do? Macarena’s free hand slid to the back of Zulema’s neck, pulling her close and kissing her lovingly, tongue gliding against Zulema’s with the same rhythm that her fingers were stroking Zulema.

“Come with me,” Maca pleaded.

And Zulema couldn’t help it. She had to obey. Her hand wrapped tightly around Maca’s waist and she cried Maca’s name into the blonde’s neck. Maca leaned back, bringing Zulema’s face to hers. Her legs spread wider and she grabbed hold of Zulema’s wrist pulling her deeper inside. Zulema flexed her fingers, forcing Maca to feel  _ everywhere _ . Maca’s head lolled backward and her eyes wrenched shut as she let her orgasm wash over her entire body. 

“ _ Zulema _ !”

Ten minutes later, Zulema was buttoning her pants back up and crouching down to pick up Macarena’s discarded panties. She dangled them smugly on one finger in front of Maca’s flushed face. Macarena snatched them from her, shaking her head with a poorly hidden smirk. 

“I have to go.”

_ I wish you didn’t _ Zulema wanted to say.

“I know.”

“I’ll see you on Sunday?”

“Mhm.” Zulema nodded. She allowed Maca to kiss her again.

And then, she was gone. 

* * *

Her family was happy to see her. It’d been so long since the last time Macarena had gone home. It was intentional, of course, although it would be a lie if she said she didn’t miss them too. It was nice to be wrapped tightly in her dad’s arms as he lifted her as high as he could in his older age. Her mother, Encarna, had smiled warmly before ushering them both inside to ward off the fall chill. 

They had a fantastic dinner —grilled halibut, roasted red potatoes, and asparagus— followed by drinks and after-dinner conversation. Her brother, Roman wowed them with stories from his work at the CNI, which refreshed his memory. 

Tipping his wine glass towards his sister, he recalled, “Maca, you have Dr. Zahir this year, no?”

Macarena nodded. “Yeah, she’s tough but fair.”

“Yeah, she’ll work you hard until she’s satisfied with the result.”

Macarena flashed back to that afternoon of Zulema’s ruler sailing through the air harder and harder each time. The welts on her ass tingled. She cleared her throat and crossed her legs.

“Yes, she will.” Maca gulped down the remainder of her wine and held her glass out for more. Roman eyed her suspiciously but poured more anyway. 

“Her recommendation got me into the CNI.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Along with your hard work and dedication,” added Encarna. 

“True, but her word means a lot to the higher-ups. You know people still talk about her at the job?”

“Really?” It sounded too eager, even to Maca’s own ears. She readjusted her tone and tried again. “What do they say?”

“That she was one of the best intelligence agents they’d ever had. They say that she was in the running to become Director one day. Then her husband died and she just quit.”

“That’s a shame,” Leopoldo interjected. 

“I agree. He was young too.”

“How young?” Maca couldn’t help herself. 

“Late twenties? Early thirties? I can’t remember exactly. I think he may have been a student of hers at one point, but I could be wrong.”

Maca sat back in her chair with a huff, thinking as she chewed on her thumbnail.

_ So, this wasn’t anything new for Zulema? Good to know. _

Zulema always said in class that information was key to arming yourself while getting to know your target. Well, she was right.

* * *

“Are you happy, mom?”

Macarena asked the question as she and her mother were walking along the illuminated garden path towards the sitting bench a few yards from the back patio. 

“Am I happy?” Encarna repeated. She took a moment to consider it as she looked up at the night sky, stars twinkling brilliantly. When her head lowered, eyes crinkling as she smiled, she told Macarena, “I’ve never been happier.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“I always wondered if you had to give up your happiness as a chef to have Roman and me.”

“You couldn’t be any more wrong.” Her mother reached for her hand, squeezing it. “I gave up a stressful career in order to obtain my true happiness. You and your brother made my life so complete. When you’re both here,” she shrugged, “the joy I feel is unparalleled.”

Maca took her mother’s hand in her own and brought it to her lips, kissing the back of it. 

Zulema had been right. It was all in Macarena’s head. She assumed that Encarna wasn’t happy being a homemaker. Just because she wasn’t flying off to exotic locales to cook in a snobby five-star restaurant for the elite didn't mean she was any less passionate.

“What makes you ask?”

It was Macaren’s turn to shrug. She looked off towards the back patio where her father and brother were enjoying cigars and whiskey. 

“I just wondered if you could have a passion for someone else without compromising what you’re trying to accomplish for yourself.”

Encarna smiled. She knew what was happening here. Her daughter was falling for someone. “It’s all about balance. Share yourself equally to  _ what _ you like and  _ who _ you like. If they like you too, they won’t hold you back. If anything, they’ll push you harder to be the best possible version of yourself.”

Maca nodded.

“So,” Encarna prodded, “Is there someone pushing you to be the best possible version of yourself?”

“Maybe. Or so thought, but maybe it’s not as special as I thought it was.”

Encarna’s brows knitted together. “What makes you say that?”

Maca tossed her hands up and shook her head. “I don’t know. Too much wine,” she dismissed the conversation.

“Well, if it’s still happening around Christmas break, we’d love for you to bring them around,” Encarna said hopefully. 

“Yeah, maybe.”

A while later after Maca was finished her nightly routine, she slipped her phone out of her bag and checked it for messages. She’s sent Zulema a text to let her know she arrived safely. Zulema had simply ‘loved’ the message but that was all. As she considered sending a goodnight message, a knock sounded at her bedroom door. 

“Come in.”

Roman entered and leaned against the doorframe. “Just came to say goodnight, and that I know your dirty little secret.”

“Oh yeah?” Macarena replied, coolly despite the fact that she was internally panicking. 

“You have a crush on Dr. Zahir.”

“I do not. Even if I did. According to you, students are her thing anyway. Why would I give her the time of day if all she does is seduce students?” Maca tossed her phone to the foot of the bed and climbed into bed. 

Roman, whose expression had been smug, suddenly had enough to put the pieces together. “I was kidding, but that obviously bothered you.”

“I’m not bothered,” she lied.

“You’re a terrible liar.” Roman slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Besides, I said I wasn’t sure if her husband was a student of hers.”

“Well,” Macarena gestured with her hands for him to leave, “go find out.”

“Or, if your relationship is what I think it is, you could just ask her.” He shrugged his shoulders and then started out of the room, “Just a thought”, he mentioned before closing the door behind him. Macarena crossed her arms, annoyed at the thought that Zulema could just be a student-chasing teacher, and more frustrated that she allowed herself to fall for the older woman. 

_ I guess I really do still have a lot to learn _ , Maca thought before she turned out off her light and tossed and turned for the next eight hours.

* * *

_ Zulema’s house, Friday, 17:03 _

Zulema sat in her rarely used home office, absolutely distracted by the paperwork before her, willing away the raging migraine that threatened to take over. She hadn’t eaten in the eight hours she’d been pouring over every single piece of information. The brunette took a few sips of water from the glass in front of her and then jotted down some notes on a legal notepad.

“Zule!” Saray’s voice called.

“That key is for emergencies, Saray!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” was Saray's reply as she followed Zulema’s voice to the office and entered, holding up a carryout bag. “I figured I’d find you here since the campus is closed.”

The food was placed down onto the file Zulema was reading. Zulema moved it to the side and Saray rolled her eyes. She opened the bag herself and reached inside to pull out Zulema’s dinner. Pulling the top off of the counter, she waved it towards Zulema in an attempt to distract her with the delicious aroma of her favorite Mediterranean chicken wrap. But even that wasn’t enough. So, Saray went another route.

“Zule?” Saray tried. 

“Hm?” Zulema replied, reaching for another piece of paper. 

“Remember when you told me to tell you when you’re obsessing?”

Zulema’s eyes flicked up, peering at Saray over the top of her glasses. “Am I obsessing?”

In response, Saray looked deliberately at the desktop full of case notes and the boxes of evidence copies in the chair beside Zulema.

Zulema sighed and took the proffered food from Saray’s hands. “I’m just missing  _ one _ thing. If I can just figure out what that thing is, I  _ know _ I can find this motherfucker.” She took a bite of the wrap and chewed thoughtfully.

Saray popped a french fry into her mouth, mentioning, “It’s been four years, Zulema.”

Zulema swallowed, sadly reminding Saray and herself, “Five soon.”

“Still,” Saray conceded, “you have to give yourself a break.”

“Saray, no one else is looking for this piece of shit. I’ll take a break when I find him.”

“People  _ are _ looking for him. You just have to have patience.”

Zulema gave her a look. She lifted the file folder that she was reading to show the bright blue ‘ _ COLD CASE _ ’ stamp that nearly covered the name on the front:  _ Hamadi, Hanbal _ .

“It’s been four years!” Saray exclaimed, this time in absolute disbelief. She took the file from Zulema’s hands. “They can’t just label this a cold case already!”

Zulema shrugged. “According to Castillo’s intel, there are new protocols for cases open longer than two years without any new leads.”

“That’s bullshit,” Saray said, lifting two pages to scan the third. “Can he do anything?”

“He’s retired. What  _ can _ he do?”

Saray grabbed a highlighter off of the desk and emphasized something on the page while Zulema snagged a fry. “He still has friends in high places. Friends that owe him favors.”

Zulema sighed and sat back in her chair, nibbling on half of the fry. “I don’t want him to have to use them until I have the perfect profile and a top-five list of suspects.”

She allowed Saray to be her fresh pair of eyes as she finished her food and then started to clear the trash.

“Saray?”

“Hm?” Now, Saray was the distracted one, jotting down notes on the corner of the file to come back to later. When Zulema didn’t respond, she looked up into dark, hopeful eyes. 

“We’re going to find this guy, Zulema.”

Zulema nodded.

“But that doesn’t mean you have to hole yourself up in here to do it. Live your life. You know Hanbal would have wanted you to be the same wild and free woman that he loved. You deserve to be happy, Zule.”

Zulema looked down and smiled. 

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just,” Zulema tapped at the black and white picture of Hanbal on the piece of paper in front of her, “Maca said that, too.”

“So she said the same thing I’ve been telling you for years now. What’s the difference now that  _ she _ said it?”

Zulema looked Saray dead in the eye and cocked an eyebrow.

A look of confusion, followed by a look of total realization crossed Saray’s face. “You fucked her!” Saray shut the folder and tossed it onto the desk. “Was it good? Was she  _ experienced _ in the ways of the lady parts?”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“That’s a yes.” Saray’s laugh sobered just a bit before she looked at her best friend sincerely. “Zule, why didn’t you tell me about her? She obviously means something to you.”

“There’s nothing to tell. It’s still new.”

Saray sat back and shook her head. “But it’s  _ happening _ . You called me at three a.m. the first time you slept with Helena.” 

“Because I was scared, and I felt guilty and I wanted to talk it out.”

“And now?”

“No guilt, but I’m still terrified.”

“Because you like her. Mark my words, next thing I know you’ll be shouting to the world that you love her. Saray grinned. “I’m happy for you.”

“Shut up,” Zulema scoffed playfully. She pointed a finger at Saray. “And if Rizos finds out about this, just know I know how to rid a crime scene of any evidence.”

Laughing, Saray held up her hands in surrender. “ _ Vale _ , wrap this shit up. We gotta go.” She reached into the container of lukewarm fries and ate another before tossing it into the bag with the rest of the trash.

“What? Where are we going?”

“I figured you’d be spiraling without your little blonde here to distract you, so I got us a spa weekend,” Saray told her, already halfway out of the room.

Zulema groaned and her head hit the desk. 

“Ten minutes, Zule! I’ll be in the car!” Saray called from down the hall.

  
  
  



	16. Moving Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *never has there been a chapter more unedited than this one.

As much as she hated to admit it, Saray was right. The spa weekend had been exactly what she needed to relax, rejuvenate, and take her mind off of Hanbal’s case. There were massages and facials and aloe-mud baths that left her skin with a tingly kind of newness. She and Saray slept in the spa’s hotel in a suite that separated their bedrooms by a small kitchenette and a sitting room. In between spa treatments, they lazed with Saray’s head lying on Zulema’s lap as they watched tv and caught up with each other’s lives. 

When she returned home on Sunday afternoon, she neatly packed up Hanbal’s case leaving the boxes atop her desk for later investigation.

Then she showered, washed her hair, turned her cell phone back on, and headed downstairs to start dinner. She had just finished chopping onions to sautée when her phone started ringing.

_ Maca _ , Zulema thought, hopefully. She said she would call when she got back to her off-campus apartment. 

_ Mi Gitana _ . 

“We just spent the weekend together. You have to give me time to miss you, Saray,” Zulema teased.

“Ha ha,” deadpanned Saray. “Come to The Academy.”

“I just started dinner.” 

“Slap some plastic wrap on it. Castillo’s got shot specials.”

Zulema’s ears perked up. She could be convinced. 

“I need food.”

There was a shuffling sound and then she heard Saray yelling an order of wings and fries to someone in the background. Her voice was clear again when she told Zulema, “Done. See you in twenty.”

Before Zulema could respond, the line went dead. 

* * *

_ The Academy, Sunday, 21:01  _

Zulema was pretty sure her liver was going to fail before classes restarted the following Monday. Saray had somehow managed to get three tequila shots down her throat before Zulema had even eaten two fries and a boneless buffalo wing. 

The isolation of the weekend was now balanced perfectly with the social interaction Zulema was receiving from their small group. Zulema and Saray sat around two high circular tables that had been pushed together to make room for Helena, Fabio, Valbuena —the bartender who made Saray’s drinks during her sets at Cruz— and Nuria Millán, a guard who worked with Saray at Del Norte prison. 

They were a rowdy bunch, that much was certain, completely thanks to Castillo keeping their table drowning in alcohol. Millán, as she went by, was regaling the table with a story of their newest inmate. 

“I shit you not, this chick is towering over me with muscles out to here,” Millán made a gesture with her hand and arm, “and I’m thinking ‘please don’t give me lip because I’m not sure I can take you’.” The table chuckled as Millán finished. “Anyway, she opens her mouth and out comes the sweetest, most high-pitched voice I’ve ever heard and she asks me if there’s a suggestion box where she can suggest some added features to ‘brighten up the place’.”

The table laughed hard at that before Millán hit Saray’s shoulder with the back of her hand. “Don’t laugh, Saray. I think she’s one of yours.”

“ _ Que _ ?”

“Yeah. Apparently she’s a black widow. Killed like four boyfriends and attempted to kill a fifth but he got away.”

“ _ Madre mia _ ,” Saray muttered. “I need another drink.” She raised her at Castillo and circled around the table for another round.

Zulema shook her head and held up her hands. “I’m out. I’ve had enough.”

Millán looked flabbergasted. “We can do that? We can just say no more shots to Saray?”

Zulema grinned, picking up her phone. “If you enjoy having a healthy liver, learn to say no to Saray Vargas.”

“Oye! Don’t teach the newbie that I’m a bad influence.”

Zulema opened up her Instagram app, and tapped the green bubble around Maca’s story icon. A pic of Macarena with her brother smiling brilliantly for the selfie greeted Zulema. The next was of her mom and dad, holding hands with their backs turned to the camera, watching the sunset. Another someone had taken of Macarena standing a few feet from the edge of a lake, looking over her shoulder at the camera with the ghost of a smile on her lips. And the final photo was Macarena’s hand holding a pool cue under a filter that made the photograph look as if it were nineties vintage, date and time stamp running along the side and all. In the background behind her hand were two shots lined neatly along the wooden edge of a pool table. Rizos’ screen name was tagged on one of the shot glasses, and at the bottom of the screen was the geotag for The Academy Sports Bar & Grille. Zulema’s eyes flickered up to the top of the screen. Posted six minutes ago. 

Distractedly, Zulema replied to Saray, “You  _ are _ a bad influence.”

Zulema vaguely heard Saray scoff in response and try to persuade Millán that she wasn’t, but she was too focused on her troubling blonde.

_ Why hadn’t Macarena text her to let her know she was home?  _

“Rizos is here?” Zulema murmured to Saray because if anyone knew where Rizos was at any given moment, it was Saray.

Saray turned around and her eyes began to scan the main bar. When she didn’t see her curly-haired lover, Saray looked at Zulema and shook her head, shrugging. Zulema decided to respond to Macarena’s story instead.

**_You’re here? At The Academy, I mean._ **

_ Yes. Blowing off some steam with Rizos. Are you here? _

**_Yes. Everything okay?_ **

There were a few moments of contemplative thinking on Macarena’s end before she finally replied to Zulema’s message.

_ We need to talk.  _

Another message followed quickly after the first.  _ Can I come by later? _

**_Yes._ **

Twenty years of investigative work, and a very instinctual part of Zulema told her that whatever this was… wasn’t good.

* * *

It was nearly midnight when Macarena showed up at Zulema’s. The brunette had only gotten in about twenty minutes prior to the doorbell ringing. When she opened the door for Maca, the blonde entered timidly, unable to meet Zulema’s eyes. She didn’t crane her neck up to kiss Zulema and she hesitated before finally deciding to wrap her arms around Zulema’s waist and embrace her tightly.

Zulema held her in return, resting her chin on top of Maca’s head for a few moments. When she pulled back and put both of her hands on Maca’s face, Zulema ducked down to catch her eyes, giving her a small smile. “Talk to me.”

When Maca’s lips parted but nothing came out, Zulema took Macarena’s hand in her own and led her to the television den and sat the blonde on the couch. She disappeared for a few moments, and Macarena could hear her rustling around in the fridge. Returning a few moments later with two frosted glasses of water, handing one to Maca, who gulped down half of it gratefully.

“ _ Que paso _ ,  _ rubia _ ?”

“I have to ask you something.”

Zulema turned her body to face Maca’s, leaning her back against the arm of the couch, right leg resting on the cushions between them. She gestured with her hand for Macarena to continue.

“Do you do this,” the blonde gestured between herself and Zulema, “with students? Often, I mean.”

Macarena could practically see Zulema’s defensive emotional wall as it started to rise from the height that Zulema had pushed it down. For her. For Macarena. And, with a single question, Macarena somehow knew she had brought Zulema back to square one. 

“I know that,” Macarena gulped, terrified to bring up Hanbal’s name because she knew just how raw Zulema still was, but she had to know, “your husband was much younger than you. Was he your student, too? Is this just something that you do? Fall for people who you can teach and train and mold into… you?”

Zulema’s body temperature had skyrocketed and her eyes seemed darker than normal. She wanted to say so many things, none of them very nice. So, she took a few moments to gather her thoughts because, on one hand, clearly there had been some sort of miscommunication that Zulema wanted to clarify right then and there. On the other hand, the accusation was appalling and  _ was that really what she thought that Zulema did? _

The brunette was torn; it took a lot of courage for Macarena to ask what she was asking. In her own way, she, too, was attempting to clear the air once and for all. But her presentation and delivery were severely lacking. Especially when the subject was incredibly delicate and sensitive for Zulema.

“Well?”

Zulema blinked. 

Macarena was becoming increasingly agitated by her lack of response. It was now or never. And she didn’t know if it was the alcohol giving her enough courage to share such an important part of her journey with Macarena, but what she  _ did _ know was that she felt  _ un _ comfortable enough with Macarena’s frustrations to understand that the blonde needed some sort of explanation.

So, Zulema inhaled and exhaled, centering her breathing. Then she took Maca’s hand. “Let me show you something.”

She stood from the couch and started towards the corridor to the front hall. Up the stairs and down the hall, she went, leading Macarena to the walk-in closet of her bedroom and pointed to a small chaise lounge. “Sit.”

Maca sat. She took a look around at the enormous closet. Three walls were full of clothing, organized perfectly by color, light to dark. The fourth wall housed a floor to ceiling mirror and in the center was a large island that held multiple pairs of shoes for every occasion. It looked like something Macarena would see in a closet makeover show.

“Hanbal Hamadi was one of the best profilers that the CNI has ever known,” Zulema started, walking to the east wall, to the right of Maca. She ran her hand along a series of hooded sweatshirts, a few of which Macarena had seen Zulema wearing. “I  _ hated _ that he was so young and so brilliant because some things that took me years to learn, took him a day.” Zulema smirked. “He thought he was hot shit.”

Macarena grinned at that. 

“My boss at the time paired us together on a case that the locals in Valencia just couldn’t seem to close. It took us just under a week to find their unknown subject. We must have gotten, I don’t know, thirty-six hours of sleep total that week. Stayed up until the sun rose, chasing down leads. Knocking on doors. Interviewing suspects. One morning, he woke me up to tell me he’d found a new lead, but before he could get it out, he just stared at him. Like really stared at me as if he was seeing me for the first time.” Zulema shrugged. 

“Anyway, after that case was closed, our boss wanted us together all of the time. We solved case after case and our closing rate skyrocketed. Our work life blended into personal life. You spend that much time together, especially on the road, and you learn things about your partner: where they come from, their family, what they like and dislike.” Zulema ran a hand down the sleeve of a sweatshirt. “We learned that we had more in common than we thought. And that we really,  _ really _ liked each other. The only difference was our ages.

“One thing led to another, and after we closed a case one night, we had drinks. A lot of them. Listened to some vinyls, had a ridiculous amount of sex, and then we were just… addicted to one another.”

Macarena shifted in the chair, pulling her knees up to her chest and listening to Zulema’s story. Despite the brunette’s distant concentration as she told it, Macarena felt so much closer to the brunette.

“Saray explains better than I do, but we became sort of a safety blanket for one another. Kept each other safe and protected, at work and outside of it. So, when he died, I remember feeling so raw and exposed. Until,” she pulled at the strings of her hoodie, “I put on one of these.”

Macarena was beginning to understand. When Zulema wore Hanbal’s oversized clothing, she felt a sense of comfort. It was like armor; a shield against the outside world.

“You still love him.” Macarena said. It wasn’t a question.

“Wouldn’t you?”

Macarena thought about it for a moment, and then nodded her head. “Of course, I would.”

Zulema rounded the island, pulling herself up onto it, feet dangling off of the floor. 

“But, do you ever think that maybe while wearing Hanbal’s clothing is a defensive coping mechanism, that it’s also inhibiting you from being open to someone else wanting to be there to protect you?”

Zulema smiled. “Why do you think I haven’t asked for his hoodie back?”

It was Maca’s turn to blink. “The one you let me borrow when I was here?”

Zulema nodded. “I think in my mind if I had one less to wear or if I didn’t miss it, it was my way of telling myself that I’m ready for something more with someone else. Maybe it was my way of reminding myself that even though moving forward is hard, it’s possible.”

Macarena was surprised. Honored, really.

“So,” Zulema sighed, hopping off of the counter and crossing the space between them, crouching by Macarena’s feet, “to answer your question: no, I do not do this with every student. With any, actually. I don’t fall for people that I have to teach or train or mold. What I like is someone who challenges me, and has their own way of thinking. Someone who looks at me like they’re always seeing me for the first time. And someone to have ridiculous amounts of sex with.”

Macarena laughed and reached out, pressing one hand to Zulema’s face. “You’re a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma,” she repeated the words she’d spoken to Zulema on their first date.

“But, perhaps, you’ve found the key.” Zulema replied, leaning forward to kiss Maca.

“Let’s go to bed,” the blonde whispered into the next kiss. 

And her bubbling giggles turned into full-blown laughter as Zulema literally maneuvered to pick her and carry her out of the closet.

  
  



	17. Friendsmas!

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of activity for Maca and Zulema. With winter break on the horizon, Macarena found herself churning out paper after paper for the majority of her classes. Zulema, on the other hand, worked on closing a series of lectures for hers. 

They’d established a comfortable nighttime routine; Mondays and Wednesdays, Zulema would spend the night at Maca’s apartment. She said it was because she was too exhausted to drive home, but Maca had the sneaking suspicion that it was because of something she said over dinner once.

_“I don’t like you driving home so late at night.”_

It didn’t matter that Zulema had been driving home ‘so late at night’ before she met Macarena. Still, while Zulema wouldn’t admit it aloud, she liked that Maca worried about her. 

Their weekends were spent at Zulema’s. Most Friday evenings, Maca found herself writhing underneath Zulema’s naked body, coming undone as the brunette murmured filthy things in her ear. And by Sunday afternoons, Zulema would be dripping down Macarena’s chin after a late lunch, and the blonde would leave her a quivering mess until they saw each other again in the cafe on Monday morning.

It wasn’t all about the sex, though. Maca was in awe of Zulema’s mind. The woman read published psychology journals for fun, and on more than one occasion, Maca had found Zulema pacing in her home office, phone to her ear, as she consulted on a case with former colleagues. Macarena noted that Zulema was a woman of few words, so when she _did_ speak, she was passionate, determined, and so goddamned charming. She was falling hard for Zulema Zahir, and it was _fucking terrifying_.

Zulema watched Maca intently. She saw how hard Maca worked on any- and everything. How thoughtful and considerate Maca was. But what Zulema really liked to see was that when something unsettled her, Maca kept pushing until she conquered it. 

It was partially why Zulema was so receptive to Macarena voicing a topic that would otherwise make Zulema uncomfortable. 

Maca had come from the boxing gym two hours prior.

_“How was the gym?”_

_“Good, I’m going to be sore in the morning.”_

She’d showered not long after a late dinner, but was discouraged from dressing in the nightclothes that she’d brought with her. 

So, there, in Zulema’s ridiculously large bed, she relaxed as the brunette massaged her already-aching muscles.

“Zule?” She murmured, turning her head to the side. 

Zulema hummed in response as she kneaded Macarena’s shoulders. 

“You know how Saray knows about us?”

“Mhm,” the brunette replied, distracted by the soft skin of Maca’s back. 

“I was thinking that maybe I could tell Rizos about us.”

Zulema’s hands slowed to a stop. She watched as the blonde’s muscles that she’d just spent ten minutes unknotting suddenly tensed up again. 

_What was the harm really?_ They’d already broken rule number two by fucking in Zulema’s office, and Saray knew about them which basically broke rule number three, so it was only fair, Zulema decided. 

“Okay.”

Shoulders relaxed. “Okay?”

Zulema leaned down and kissed her shoulder blade. Then the back of her neck. “Is it important to you?”

“Yes.”

“Then okay.”

Macarena turned in bed with a radiant smile and Zulema was dazzled by it. She tried to stop her own smile, but she couldn’t. Macarena had that effect on her, and she loved it. 

_Whoa._

“Are you just saying that because I’m half-naked in your bed?”

Zulema shook her head and looked Maca up and down. “I don’t have to impress you. You’re already a sure thing.”

Maca’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened just a fraction, but before she could protest Zulema was leaning forward and kissing her softly. Once. Then again. And one more time until Macarena became pliant.

For Zulema, Maca realized, she would always be a sure thing.

* * *

“Friendsmas!” Saray said, slamming her hand onto the table. 

“ _Gesundheit_ ,” Maca teased, slipping back into her seat and depositing three fresh beers between them. 

They had been studying for final exams and Saray had offered her services once more to the group of friends. Luna and Yolanda had called it a night nearly a half-hour ago. Maca played hostess to her last two guests, and in the back of her mind, she wondered if the two were avoiding their own homes. 

_Had her apartment become a safe house for their clandestine affair?_

Rizos rolled her eyes and laughed. “It’s Saray’s version of Christmas.”

“Yeah, so my family doesn’t really celebrate, but I love the holidays, and since Zulema is Muslim, I came up with a neutral, religious-free holiday of my own celebrated a week before Christmas.”

“Friendsmas,” Maca deduced.

“ _Exactamente_.” Saray looked pleased with herself. “An entire weekend of winter-themed fun at a cabin in the mountains that ends Sunday night where everyone gets dressed up for an incredible, catered dinner. Some drinks. A gift exchange, maybe a holiday-themed photo booth for the memories. I’m probably biased, but it’s my all-time favorite holiday.”

Macarena remembered how amazing Saray’s Halloween dinner had been and that was only her second favorite holiday; it made Maca excited to see what Saray came up with for this one. 

“Are you getting the Christmas carolers to deliver the invitations again this year?” Rizos wondered.

Saray considered it for a few moments before shaking her head in the negative. “I have to come up with a clever way of doing it this year because Zule likes to slam her door in their faces.”

Maca snorted her laughter. 

“Toss them down people’s chimneys,” laughed Rizos. 

“That’s actually a good idea!” Maca exclaimed, before pouring. “Wait, no, I don’t have a chimney.”

“Zule has one, though, and since you’re always there, I can just—,” She trailed off when she saw Macarena’s eyes widen and shift over to Rizos’ face, “...go fuck myself because Rizos didn’t know. Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you always at Zulema’s?” Rizos asked her friend. Realization dawned, and she tilted her head, confused. “Wait, are you seeing Zulema?”

Maca opened her mouth, then closed it and nodded her head. 

“How long?”

“Since that brunch that you helped me get ready for.”

“That was months ago!” Rizos looked affronted. “And you didn’t tell me?” She stood from the table and crossed the room.

“Rizos, I was going to—!” Maca sighed as Rizos walked towards Maca’s balcony. 

“Maca, I’m really sorry.”

Maca held up a hand and shook her head. “It’s okay, Saray. Really. I should go talk to her.”

Saray nodded and started to clean up the table while Macarena headed towards Rizos. 

Stepping out into the cool night, Maca rested her forearms against the railing of the balcony a few inches from Rizos.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about me and Zulema. I was going to.”

“When? At your wedding?” Rizos huffed.

“No, really. There were rules. We had to be careful because it’s a delicate situation. If anyone at the university found out, who knows what would happen.”

“There’s no law against it. You’re both consenting adults.”

“Yeah, but would I be allowed to graduate or would I have to repeat Zulema’s course next year with another professor? And how would the other staff members look at Zulema?”

Rizos nodded, she was beginning to understand, but what still wasn’t clear was why Maca hadn’t confided in her, so she verbalized the question.

“You know a lot of people,” Maca replied. “If one person found out, it would only be a matter of time before everyone knew.”

“So, you thought I wouldn’t be able to keep my mouth shut?”

“No,” Maca pleaded because she didn’t think that, “but look what just happened with Saray. What if you were the one who slipped up around someone who wasn’t in our circle?”

Rizos sighed. Macarena had a point.

“You’re my best friend.” Maca grinned and nudged Rizos’ shoulder with her own. “I don’t know how it happened, but you are.”

Rizos smiled softly. “It’s because I’m charming.”

Maca laughed. “Yes, you are. And funny, and generous, and the least judgmental person I know.”

“You forgot gorgeous.”

Maca draped an arm around Rizos’ neck, kissing her cheek. “The _most_ gorgeous.”

Rizos turned to face Maca and slipped her arms around the blonde’s waist, hugging her. Maca squeezed her best friend, tightly and steered her out of the chilly night and back into the apartment. 

“All forgiven, no?” Saray asked hopefully, arms spread wide. 

“Yes,” Rizos responded. 

Standing around the kitchen island, Macarena cleared her throat. “Now let’s talk about what you two are going to do about this little affair.”

Rizos held her hand up. “There’s nothing to talk about. We ended it.”

Maca looked surprised. “Really? What changed?”

“Saray got a _girlfriend_ ,” teased Rizos.

“She is _not_ my girlfriend.”

Rizos gave Maca a _look_ and used the corner of her mouth to murmur, “ _Yet_.”

“Who is this not-yet girlfriend?”

“A coworker. Pretty. Tall. Brunette. Nothing like me, of course.”

“How do you know what she looks like?” Saray asked Rizos. The curly-haired vixen shrugged once. 

“I can’t reveal my sources.”

Saray and Maca looked at one another, declaring in unison, “Instagram.”

“Whatever, the point is Saray and I have come to a mutual end like the responsible adults that we are.”

There was a brief moment of silence before the three of them burst out into sputtered laughter. 

“I don’t know about responsible adults _but_ I am glad you guys decided to stop before anyone got hurt.”

Rizos’ phone chimed. “ _Vamos_ , it’s time for _Temptation Island_.”

* * *

_One week later…_

_Friday, 17:16_

The weather was crisp, just cold enough for a jacket, but not cold enough for winter accessories like scarves or gloves. Still, Maca had pulled a gray beanie hat on, mostly for fashion.

Maca laughed freely at something Nerea said while leaning on Rizos’ shoulder. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so carefree. It helped that they were going to spend a beautiful weekend in a gorgeous cabin on acres of land that sprawled farther than the eye could see. They were a two-hours’ drive from the city, and it was worth it. The air was fresher and nature sang all around them. Saray had arrived the day before and spent all night decorating the house from top to bottom in elegant, yet simple holiday colors.

Macarena got to the cabin last, just after lunch. A glass of wine and an itinerary of the weekend’s festivities were immediately pressed into her hand by Yolanda, and she was offered an assortment of drugs by Luna. 

It wasn’t until she found that Rizos had brought along Nerea and Saray had invited her coworker, Millán, that the free-flowing alcohol made perfect sense. But so far, everyone seemed to get along.

It was nearing dinnertime and the group lounged out on the rear patio of the cabin, waiting for their welcome dinner to commence. A long, wooden table had been set up outside, off of the patio, nearly completely surrounded by a thicket of trees, complete with battery-operated candles and a winter-themed floral arrangement. 

The blonde turned, eyes scanning the lush grounds, looking for the one person she wanted to share this happiness with. 

It didn’t take long to find her.

There she was. 

Zulema. 

Gazing back.

She was slouched leisurely in an Adirondack chair beside a cracking bonfire pit, hoodie halfway on her head, and a smirk on her face. She raised her beer subtly to Maca and Maca returned the gesture with her own wine glass and they both took a sip. 

“Alright, girls and gays, listen up!” Saray said, tapping her beer bottle with a fork. “Dinner is served.”

She made her way to the table, followed by three wait-staff, each wheeling out a cart loaded with covered, savory dishes. Saray’s guests trailed behind, careful to sit in the seats assigned to them by the bright red place cards. 

“Well, well,” Macarena said, dropping into the seat beside Zulema, “who would’ve guessed I’d end up next to you?”

Zulema grinned. “God is funny that way.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling Saray now?”

As a deep chuckle came from the back of her throat, Zulema rolled a piece of gum from one side of her mouth to the other and Maca fixated on the movement, suddenly wondering how soon she could get Zulema naked. 

Zulema leaned over her armrest to mutter, “Stop looking at me like I’m dinner.”

“How about dessert, then?”

Zulema didn’t respond. She gave Macarena her signature smirk and turned to mention something to Saray.

An hour or so later, the sun had nearly set on their first evening. The sky was pink, purple, and blue and a chill had begun to settle, but Macarena could barely feel it. All she could register was the warmth of Zulema’s hand resting on her leg, fingers curled around the inside of her knee. It was as if it were second nature to Zulema, to always touch Macarena in some way, even as she spoke with the guests surrounding them. She used her other hand to gesture as she debated with Rizos about the pros and cons of networking. 

Macarena wondered briefly how Zulema would act towards her this weekend. Luna and Yolanda didn’t know about them yet; and while they weren’t _her_ students, they were still pupils at the university. Zulema answered her question when she lifted her hand from Maca’s knee and ran the back of it down the blonde’s cheek before resting it on the back of Maca’s chair. The smooth action happened so swiftly that Macarena wasn’t sure it even happened at all until she clocked Rizos’ giddy expression.

“ _Oye_ , Saray, where’s everyone sleeping?” Yolanda asked as the wait-staff reappeared and started to clear the table. 

It was a good question. When they arrived, they had left their bags in the front foyer, as instructed, thus no one had seen their rooms yet. 

Saray grinned. “Open up your place cards.”

The place cards, folded in half and sat before their plates like little tents, were picked up. Inside was smaller writing with a room assignment and their bunkmates for the weekend, along with a small game.

“Saray, what’s the candy cane game?” Millán inquired, holding up her place card.

A satisfied smirk on her face, Saray leaned forward, the flame of the faux candle casting a warm glow on her skin. “A reindeer game, if you will. The first of many. There are eighty candy canes, not including the ones on the Christmas trees, hidden in plain sight. The team, composed of you and your bunkmate, with the most candy canes at the end of the weekend will win a prize. Happy hunting.”

“Looks like you’re stuck with me for this festive weekend,” Macarena said as she and Zulema stood.

Zulema grabbed her beer, taking a swig and wrapping that same arm around Maca’s neck. They started towards the cabin, trailing behind the group. 

“I’ll have to check the naughty list to see if you’re on it,” Zulema husked. 

“I may be,” Maca replied, grabbing the front of Zulema’s hoodie as they crossed the threshold, “but I promise I’ll be _really_ good to you tonight.”

  
  



	18. You Feel It Too?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even kidding. DO NOT READ THIS AT WORK/SCHOOL.

_Friday, 23:44_

The room that Maca and Zulema had been assigned was breathtaking. Upon entering, the first thing Maca noticed was the slanted bleached wood ceiling that came to a point to the east where the wall had been replaced by a beautiful window that overlooked the estate. It was too dark now, but Zulema was certain that, come morning, they would be able to see the fog-capped mountains in the distance. The decor was stunning: white linens with tan and gray accents. The bed was situated towards the far left and there was an expansive space of floor in between, separating it from the lounging area near the window. A small couch, table, and even a Friendsmas tree, decorated to match the room’s color scheme, beside an electric fireplace inhabited the large space. 

Maca had disappeared into the en-suite bathroom shortly after they dropped their bags beside the door. Zulema heard the toilet flush followed by the sink turning on and then an excited squeal a few moments later. Maca reappeared, practically skipping out of the bathroom. “ _Carí_ , look what I found!”

If the pet name took Zulema by surprise, she didn’t show it. She simply turned from the wall of windows and saw Maca holding a candy cane in each hand. 

“In the toothbrush holders,” she said, absolutely pleased with herself.

Zulema grinned and watched as Macarena crossed the room, a giddy smile on her face. Her arms slid perfectly around Zulema’s neck and Zulema’s seamlessly encompassed Maca’s waist. Maca kissed her softly. 

“Where do you think the other candy canes are?”

“I don’t know,” Zulema sighed, taking a quick scan of the room. “But I swear if I get into bed and suddenly there’s a candy cane in my ass, Saray and I are gonna have a problem.”

Macarena couldn’t stop the laugh if she tried. Head tossed back, face to the ceiling, the sounds of pure joy escaped her mouth. It was music to Zulema’s ears. Her eyes studied the brunette’s face and she wanted to kiss her senseless. And then she remembered that she could. So, she did. Zule pulled out of the hug and used a hand to grip either side of Maca’s face, bringing their mouths together. 

Macarena wasn’t sure if she could blame the alcohol but something was different about the kiss. Time stood still when Zulema’s lips met hers, and it was almost addictive the way Maca's taste and smell caused a sensory overload inside of the brunette.

There was no telling how long they stood there, in the center of the room, lips colliding, tongues caressing, hands roaming. But eventually, Maca found herself lying on the soft faux fur rug between the fireplace and the small tree while Zulema undressed them both, only removing her mouth from Maca’s when necessary.

Macarena felt the shift in energy. Zulema took her time pulling off their shirts and pants. Took care to massage every inch of Maca’s body before her mouth followed suit. She kissed from Macarena’s jaw to her neck and all the down her chest before reaching underneath to expertly unhook and remove Macarena’s bra. The material was flung haphazardly away as if Zulema wouldn’t wait to get her hands on Maca’s tits. She kissed and sucked and nibbled, drawing out the sweetest noises from the impatient blonde. There wasn’t a single spot that Zulema missed on her way down Maca’s body. Dipping her tongue inside of Maca’s navel, she continued downward, biting the soft skin just underneath as she hooked her pointer fingers inside of Macarena’s panties and pulled. Over her thighs, and down her legs they went until they, too, were flung out of reach. 

“Zulema,” Maca said for lack of anything else to say. It was just _so quiet_ and she was feeling _so many things_ ; among them, she felt sexy and secure and like a goddess as Zulema worshipped her body. She wanted to ask Zulema what this was about and what she was feeling. _Was it the same thing Maca was feeling?_ _Could she feel the way they’d gone so far so past the city limits of Zulema’s boundaries and Maca’s insecurities? Did Zulema also see that they’d reached a fork in the road where they could turn towards stagnant lust or towards something… more?_

“Oh!” Maca moaned as she felt Zulema’s mouth where she needed it most. Zulema’s tongue slid between her folds and had discovered that Macarena was positively _drenched_. It didn’t matter; she was already eagerly lapping up Maca’s juices, trying her hardest to get Maca even wetter. Her tongue explored Macarena, slipping inside with a shallow rhythm before pulling back out and lavishing her clit with attention. A hand got lost in dark hai as Maca bit down on two fingers on her other hand. She tried her hardest to keep her eyes open, but when Zulema pushed two fingers inside of her, she lost that battle. 

She moaned and clenched around the digits, taking Zulema’s further in. In slow, sure strokes, Zulema glided in before pulling almost completely out. Over and over again, she did it, finessing a third finger inside. Maca’s eyes and mouth opened in surprise and then she noticed it. 

The full-length mirror behind Zulema where she could see Zulema’s head moving side to side and the flex of the muscles in her arm as she firmly drove in and out of Macarena. 

“ _ Oh god _ !” She cried out and Zulema looked up. She pulled her mouth away, but her arm never stopped moving. Turning to see what caught Maca’s attention, Zulema grinned darkly and Macarena knew she’d made a terrible mistake. The brunette pushed herself up onto her bare knees and managed to remain deep inside of Maca as she maneuvered until she helped Maca into a sitting position and slid behind her. And now, Macarena had the perfect view of Zulema’s fourth finger slipping inside of her. With Zulema’s front pressed against her back, warm breath against her ear, Maca nearly came when Zulema whispered, “You look so good with me inside of you.”

“Zulema, please.”

“Please what?”

Maca grabbed Zulema’s wrist, pulled the brunette deeper inside, and  _ fuck _ she felt so full, and yet all she wanted was more. She wanted to take everything Zulema wanted to give her and then some. 

“More,” she breathed and Zulema’s eyes searched hers. 

“Are you sure?”

Maca nodded quickly, panting desperately. And if that wasn’t enough permission, she squirmed underneath the brunette. And thank god Zulema took the hint because Maca felt like she would go crazy if she didn’t have  _ more _ of Zulema right then and there. 

Zule folded her thumb toward the inside of her palm and then slipped  _ that _ inside of Maca.

Bare tits reached Zulema’s line of sight as Maca’s back arched off of the carpet. Her mouth slack and her eyes wrenched shut, she moaned her pleasure, Zulema’s name on the tip of her tongue. Pushing damp hair off of Maca’s forehead, Zulema kissed down Macarena’s sternum. Her cheeks reddened and her chest flushed when she realized that the wet sounds echoing in the room were coming from her pussy. 

“Feel me,  _ rubia _ ?” Zulema whispered, smirking. Her arm moved slow and steady and it drove Maca insane how Zulema always seemed to know exactly what she needed. 

“I always feel you,” confessed Macarena.

The next time Zulema pulled out, she allowed her thumb to escape and pressed it against Maca’s clit. Maca watched in awe as four of Zule’s fingers disappeared inside of her. Over and over and over again. That combined with her thumb circling her clit and the open-mouth kisses against her neck, Maca couldn’t take it anymore. 

“More! _God yes_! Don’t stop, I’m gonna c—!” She couldn’t even finish her sentence. She was too busy squirting onto the faux fur rug. 

Shocked and out of breath, Maca looked at Zulema in the mirror and laughed blissfully. “I swear that’s never happened before!”

She turned in Zulema’s arms and pushed the brunette down, straddling her, slick cunt smearing her essence against Zulema’s right leg. She leaned down and kissed the brunette softly, only deepening the kiss when Zulema moaned into her mouth.

Zulema felt exposed. And not just because Macarena had her completely nudein front of uncovered windows and across from a mirror. Zulema was emotionally naked as well. And what was even more confusing to her was that she liked it. She liked how she wasn’t afraid of what was happening. And how she was almost positive that Macarena felt the same way. 

And she  _ especially _ liked the way Maca was kissing her neck as her knee pressed against Zulema’s drenched underwear. The blonde squeezed both of her breasts, wet mouth dropping down to encompass either of her hardened nipples. Zulema tried to stop herself, but couldn’t help the way she arched upward, craving more of the soft sucking sensation. 

The husky rasp of a moan floated into Maca’s ears as her hand slid into Zulema’s panties. Her eyes closed as she felt just what she’d done to Zulema. 

“ _ Para mi _ ?” She asked, cheekily. Zulema attempted to roll her eyes, but they closed tightly instead as Maca pushed two fingers as deeply as she could inside of Zulema. 

“ _ Maca _ !”  She pushed upward, using one hand to prop herself up. Face-to-face with Maca, Zulema pulled her into a passionate kiss as Maca continued to pump steadily in and out of her. 

It was unreal how  _ perfect _ the moment was. Crackling fire casting warm light over their sweat-slicked skin. Zulema circling her hips to take more of Macarena. The blonde began to roll her own hips, Zulema’s leg serving to relieve the ache that was rebuilding inside of Maca’s cunt. The heel of her hand pressed fixedly against Zulema’s bundle of nerves, Maca wrapped the other around the back of Zulema’s head, holding her close. Zulema held her waist, securely, and they used each other’s bodies to ride the wave of pleasure straight into the plundering depths of oblivion. 

“You feel so good,” Maca panted as she twisted her wrist back and forth, effectively corkscrewing her fingers in and out of the brunette. Zulema’s head fell to Maca’s shoulder, biting the soft skin there as she felt her body immediately respond to Macarena’s words.

_What the fuck was happening?_ _Why could Zulema feel her orgasm taking over her entire body?_ From the top of her head to the tips of her toes and everywhere in between. 

Maybe this was why she always wanted to know if Maca could  _ feel _ her. Inside. Outside. Prickling every nerve ending and sending signals coursing through her bloodstream and landing directly in her heart. 

Because that’s what Zulema felt. Not just then as her orgasm washed over her, but every time she was with Macarena. Any time Macarena touched her. Or  _ looked _ at her.

It was terrifying. And overwhelming. And—.

“ _ Oh, fuck _ !” Zulema cried out as Maca’s fingers curled upward and caressed her g-spot.

Partly because of the intensity of her climax, but mostly because she knew _exactly_ what was happening. 

* * *

_ Saturday, 9:09 _

Saray wasn’t kidding when she said candy canes were hidden all over the house in plain sight. Maca found three more in the utensil drawer as she helped prepare breakfast for everyone. 

She found another tucked in the centerpiece of the breakfast table, and Zulema handed her one that she’d found in the butter compartment in the fridge. It surprised Maca that Zulema even bothered with the silly candy cane game. For Zulema, all that mattered was that Maca enjoyed the candy cane hunt, so she would track down as many candy canes as it took to see the childlike grin on Maca’s face whenever she handed her one. 

Breakfast was incredible. Rizos, Maca, Yolanda, and Luna had outdone themselves; waffles, pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, fruit salad, the works. 

The table buzzed with conversation as Saray explained what they would be doing all day. Her reindeer games sounded fun, but it was once the first bottle of champagne was popped and mimosas were created, that everyone really started to get into the holiday spirit. 

“Seriously, though, how did everyone sleep well?” Saray asked, popping a grape into her mouth. 

“We know who  _ didn’t _ get any sleep last night.” Yolanda quipped. 

Nerea cocked an amused eyebrow at Rizos, who in turn, looked at Luna while trying to stop herself from smirking.

Trapped in their own little conversation, Maca and Zulema hadn’t a clue that the table was talking about them.

“Oye, Maca!” Saray reached forward and picked up the tray of mixed fruit and berries. Blonde ponytail whipped around as Macarena gave Saray her attention. “Here, I know you could always use  _ ‘more’ _ .” When Saray moaned the last word, the entire table broke out into a fit of laughter. Maca blushed furiously and turned to look at Zulema in disbelief. 

Yolanda, seated across from Maca at the rectangular table, leaned forward and whispered, “The walls are thin.”

“Your secret’s safe with us,” Luna replied, sending a wink Maca’s way.

“Yeah, no one’s gonna say anything or they'll have to deal with me," Saray threatened. "But Zule, I gotta know... what were you doing to _la rubia_? Making her take your whole fi—.”

“Saray!” Millán scolded gently, reaching over to tug on the long ends of Saray’s hair. “Leave them alone.”

“ _ Vale _ ,  _ vale _ ,” Saray digressed, clasping her hands together, “who is ready for our first of many games?”

“Let’s do it,” Millán replied.

* * *

Zulema Zahir. Doctor of psychology. Professor of criminal psychology and profiling. And all-around little shit for purposefully shouting out incorrect answers during games of dirty Friendsmas charades. 

“Zule,  _ calla _ !” Saray laughed as she continued to act out the topic on her game card. 

Sandwiched on the couch between Rizos and Millán, Zulema’s tiny frame was nearly swallowed whole by the comfortable couch. Knees pulled to her chest and one arm reaching for the refreshed glass of wine that Maca was holding out to her.

Maca took a seat on the floor in the space between Zulema and Rizos’ legs. She rested her arm on Zulema’s knee and leaned her head against her closed fist. 

“What is she doing?” Maca asked. 

Saray repeated her gestures. She pressed a finger to her lips and then made a vulgar thrusting gesture with her hips. 

“Oral sex?” Rizos called. 

“You wish,” quipped Saray. Nerea rolled her eyes and Millán snorted. 

Saray kept repeating the gestures as the timer on the table ticked loudly down to its cycle completion.

“Quiet fucking?” Luna wondered. 

“Saray do something else! We’re not getting it!” Millán called. 

“Oh wait!” Maca clapped her hands together once. “I think I got it! Is it ‘secret lover’?”

Eyes wide with excitement, Saray pointed at Maca. “Yes!  _ Finally _ !” The timer dinged cheerfully and Luna reached over to turn it off. 

“Maca, since you guessed the answer, it’s your turn now,” Yolanda explained.

“No. I don’t want to,” Maca whined. 

“Those are the rules. Get up there.” Rizos used her foot to nudge Maca. A series of encouraging words —and a few not-so encouraging ones—flew around the room until, begrudgingly, Maca pushed herself off of the floor and headed towards the front of the room. Luna fanned out the stack of game cards and Maca closed her eyes as she pulled one from the middle. She opened her eyes to read the card and laughed loudly. 

“ _ Vale _ , Rizos,  _ ven aca _ ,” Maca gestured with the card for Rizos to come to her.

“Ohhh, we have props, ladies! This is gonna be good!” Nerea shouted. That earned a round of applause as Rizos made her way to Maca, stepping over Luna and Yolanda to get to her. 

Maca pointed to the floor, silently commanding Rizos to lie down. Millán let out a wolf-whistle and Zulema leaned forward until her feet rested on the floor. She took a sip of wine before her forearms pressed against her knees and she focused her undivided attention on the two friends. 

Once Rizos lowered herself onto the floor, knees still raised, Maca dropped down after her, slipping one denim-clad leg over Rizos’, the other underneath. 

“Missionary?” Luna asked. 

Maca shook her head. She lifted Rizos’ leg up and over her shoulder and a series of hooting catcalls floated around. Maca looked down at a giggling Rizos and they both burst out into laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

“Scissoring!” Nerea added. 

Maca pointed at Nerea and then made a ‘keep going’ motion with her hand. She was so close. 

“The technical term,” explained Maca. Nerea looked lost then. 

“Tribbing,” came Zulema’s voice. It was deep and quiet and yet the sound made goosebumps form on Maca’s arms. It was the same tone she used when Macarena knew she was ‘in the mood’. 

“Is that right?” Yolanda asked, looking at Maca. 

“Yeah.” She slid off of Rizos and onto the floor, helping the latter sit up. There was a brief moment that passed between Zulema and Macarena where they had a silent conversation with their eyes. 

And then the timer went off. 

“Is anybody else hot now?” Rizos asked the room teasingly as she pushed and pulled on her shirt in rapid succession to get some air. 

“ _ Callate _ ,” Maca responded and pushed her away. 

“Zulema,” Yolanda said, holding up the stack of game cards, “it’s your turn.”

Zulema sat her wine glass down and pulled herself up and off of the couch. Stepping around everyone, she got to the front and stood beside Maca. Zule took a card from Yolanda like everyone else had and smirked, her head shaking in disbelief. 

“ _ Vale _ , start the timer,” she told Yolanda. 

“Ready, and go!” Yolanda permitted. 

The brunette put a hand to her own throat, making a halfhearted motion. 

“Pearl necklace,” shouted Rizos, gaining a mixture of disgusted and entertained reactions. 

Zule rolled her eyes, muttering, “ _ Joder _ .”

The brunette crouched down until she was face-to-face with her blonde counterpart. One hand grabbed Maca’s neck and the other reached behind her head and took a fistful of blonde hair. Maca’s breath immediately hitched as the grip on the sides of her neck became more firm. Her breathing sped up and she suddenly felt her heartbeat in her pussy. 

She couldn’t believe that Zulema was doing this. Right here. In front of everyone. It was so different. So unlike her. 

So…  _ hot _ .

_ Calm down, Maca. It’s just a game. It’s just a game. It’s just a—. _

“Choking!” Yolanda yelled, and thank god she did because Macarena had been a nanosecond away from lurching forward and kissing Zulema. 

Macarena and Zulema had disappeared after that round. They were only meant to be gone for ten minutes, but an hour later, Saray had to trek up to the third floor and knock on their bedroom door to announce that lunch was ready. 

Maca had been on top of Zulema, hips sensually rolling her soaked pussy square against Zulema’s. 

“Coming!” Macarena shouted, and while she had actually been announcing her orgasm, Saray nodded on the other side of the door, satisfied and she made her way back downstairs to the large dining room. 

By the time they actually made it to lunch, everyone else was practically finished. 

It wasn’t their fault, Maca decided. 

Sex was one thing. And fucking was another. 

But now that Zulema and Macarena had discovered  _ lovemaking _ , it was a completely different ballgame. They got lost in one another; touching, tasting, scratching, squeezing. Time didn’t matter, and when it was just the two of them, Macarena and Zulema were beginning to realize that it was all they wanted. 

And it was all they needed. 

During that afternoon’s reindeer games, however, Saray had other plans for them. If she wasn’t getting laid, no one was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway, surprise chapter tomorrow. proud of myself for keeping that secret (even from las putas ratas gc).


	19. El Regalo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am absolutely disgusted by how much of a filler chapter this is... but I've got shit to accomplish in the next ten chapters, so here we are.

“You have my best friend head over heels for you.” Saray said. She slipped her hands into the pockets of her cuffed chinos and steered Maca to the left. They walked slowly down a wooded path. The weather was that of a crisp, fall day compared to what it should have been in mid-December. Still, Maca had her hands shoved into the pockets of her jackets.

“Do I?”

They both gave one another an amused expression as they continued on the trail. The other guests were on a drunken scavenger hunt and were meant to return back to the cabin with their treasures in the next half hour. Because Saray had been the one to hide the prizes, she was automatically disqualified and had to choose a partner to sit out with. Naturally, she’d chosen Macarena. It was the perfect opportunity for Saray to get Macarena alone for an obligatory ‘if you hurt my best friend, I’ll kill you’ speech.

“I know you see it. Everyone does. You won’t be able to hide it for much longer.”

“I don’t want to hide it. Hide us. Zulema is incredible. She’s brilliant and funny and terrifying.”

“But?”

“There’s no but. We just have a couple more months and then I graduate and we can do whatever we want.”

Saray nodded. “Zulema is as badass as they come. She’s seen a lot and been through even more. It’s made her tough.” She rounded Macarena’s left, coming to stand before her. “But she still has feelings, no matter how deeply she suppresses them.”

Maca’s eyes searched Saray’s. “I would never hurt her, but I understand that you’re just trying to protect her.”

Saray gazed at Macarena for a few moments longer before they continued to walk down the path, eventually circling back to the cabin.

“About you and Rizos, though,” began Maca.

Saray chuckled and reached above her, pulling a leaf off of a tree. “I know you want to protect her, and I get that too. But I love her more than life itself. I would die for her, even if that means dying emotionally while watching her live her life and be happy with someone that’s not me.”

“That’s not healthy, Saray.”

The tall brunette laughed. “And that is why even therapists have therapists.”

Maca grinned. “Still, do you think you’ll ever be able to move on and be happy with someone else?”

Shrugging, Saray twirled the leaf between her fingers. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

“With Nuria?” Macarena asked, teasingly.

“You’re too smart for your own good.”

“And to be so smart, you’re so dumb. You could be here with her, getting to know her better instead of asking me to be your partner.”

Blowing air out of her mouth, Saray looked down at the leaf in her hand and started to pluck the tips off, dropping them as she went. They cleared the thicket of trees and the cabin was on the horizon, and they could see that the small group had congregated on the back patio, holding their checklists and small trinkets in their hands. When Saray didn’t respond, Maca looked over at her.

“Oh, I see.”

“There’s nothing to see,” the brunette replied stubbornly.

“You’re scared.”

“I’m not scared of anything.”

“Except that maybe you’ll fall for her and forget about Rizos.” Maca said, knowingly.

Saray looked to Maca. They both smiled at the same time. Saray pulled a hand out of her pants pocket and lazily pushed at the blonde’s shoulder. “Like I said: too smart for your own good.”

Maca looped an arm through Saray’s and pulled her quickly toward the house. “Just tell her how you feel. Who knows? She might just be exactly what you need.”

The closer they got to the cabin, Maca’s eyes found Zulema almost immediately. Millán, who she’d been paired with, for obvious reasons, was holding a cell phone up to Zulema who struck a silly pose as she leaned on the picnic table beside the lit fire pit. At the last minute, Luna and Yolanda jumped into the back of the pic, each with a different ridiculous pose to match Zule’s. Once Millán gave them the thumbs up, they circled around her to take a look at the picture and laugh. 

Maca realized something. 

Zulema wasn’t hiding underneath one of Hanbal’s hoodies. Or a pair of his cargo pants. Her signature combat boots were in full view, but tucked into them was an all-black nylon and spandex bodysuit that hugged her perfect body and her bomber jacket to ward off the afternoon chill.

The blonde was stunned.

At that exact moment, Maca watched as Zulema looked around the patio as if she was missing something. She turned in the direction that Saray and Maca were coming from and her dark green eyes found Maca’s. Even with the dark shades covering her eyes, Maca could see the relief spread across her face and a smile tugged at the corner of Zule’s lips. 

It was strange, yet comforting to know that no matter how far apart they were and no matter how many people were around, they somehow managed to find each other. 

* * *

A few hours later, after a group decision to nap away the effects of day drinking, they met in the game room after yet another fabulous dinner. Saray had poured more alcohol, declaring that everyone should be prepared for the next game.

“ _ Vale _ ,” Saray said, leaning onto Millán’s shoulder as she sat down on the floor, “so everyone brought a generic gift that anyone can appreciate, no matter their tastes. They’ve all been wrapped obscurely, so as to hide their contents, and that is for a good reason.” As she spoke, Saray gestured around the circle as everyone sat or stood with the gifts they’d brought with them. “This game is called ‘Who Killed Santa?’ I’m going to tell a Friendsmas murder mystery story that heavily emphasizes the words ‘left’ and ‘right’. When I say the right, you’ll pass the gift to the right and you’ll keep passing the gifts to the right until I say left, and that’s when you’ll begin to pass the gifts to the left. The rights and lefts will eventually alternate quicker the longer the story goes on, so be mindful.”

“Saray, we’re too drunk for this.”

“Exactly,” Saray responded with a cheeky grin. “Once the story stops, you get to keep the gift that you end up with,  _ but _ I guess I should mention the twist. While you’re passing, you have to pay attention to the story because the first person to actually guess which character from the story killed Papa Noel, will also get a bonus gift.” Saray held up the large gift in her own hands. “ _ Listos _ ?”

“ _ Vale _ , let’s go. I’m ready to win,” Yolanda quipped.

“Not if I win first,” Luna shot back.

“Looks like we have some friendly competition! I like it. Alright, let’s do this.”

The story was absolutely ridiculous and filled with so many twists and turns that Maca had given up on trying to guess who in the story had actually killed Papa Noel. She could barely focus on passing the gifts to the right and left, and the excited flurry of motions only served to worsen her focus. In the end, Nerea had won the bonus gift. 

After they’d finished the game, there was a moment where Saray had turned up the music and pulled Millán into her arms to dance. That began an entire night of pure laughter as they switched between dance partners, remembering how to do old dance trends that had long been forgotten and learning some new ones. They danced and drank until they dropped, some making it to bed, and others sleeping right there in the game room.

* * *

_ Sunday, 17:30 _

Their final day at the cabin was to be spent exactly the way they wanted. So, after breakfast, Zulema and Maca went back to their room to prepare their clothes for the big dinner that evening. Then, they hopped back into bed and just… talked. Well, Maca talked, and Zule listened. She told Zulema about her plans after graduation, and Zulema spoke encouraging words into her ear while scratching gently at Maca’s scalp. 

They made love. Showered, together. And got ready together. Maca helped Zulema pull her dark hair up into an elegant bun that matched the aesthetic of the hand painted couture jacket she wore. Maca slipped into black dress, heavy with chiffon and a dramatic split that revealed her toned legs whenever she took a step. She pinned her golden hair to the side just in time for Rizos to come barging into the room asking for Maca’s help with her blue, strapless dress. 

Arriving downstairs was a treat in itself. Saray —and an incredible staff of ten— had managed to transform the modest cabin into a winter wonderland while Maca and the remainder of the guests were off getting ready for dinner. Faux snow and holiday garland covered in “frost” tastefully covered the dinner table, chairs and even the friendsmas tree in the corner. The lights were dim and real candles burned softly, bouncing off of the crystal chinaware and glass ornaments in the centerpiece.

Saray had truly outdone herself yet again and she beamed with pride as her friends oohed and ahhed over the beauty of it all. 

Dinner was served, wine was poured and the conversation flowed effortlessly. Somewhere between their entree and dessert, Maca had looked around the table at her friends laughing or enraptured in an interesting conversation, and suddenly understood what her parents meant when they said that life was about the fun moments with people who you hold dearly.

Maca had her elbows on the table, hands clasped together and head tilted to the right as she gazed adoringly at Zulema. 

“ _ Qué _ ?” Zulema asked, not bothering to hide her smile. 

“Nothing. It’s just nice to see you out of your comfort zone. You seem different. Happy.”

They both knew she wasn’t going to say it aloud, so Macarena would just have to be content with the way Zulema used her eyes to confirm. She sipped from her wine and then sat thr glass back down before reaching into the pocket of her couture jacket. The raven-haired pulled out a small, flat gift box wrapped in black wrapping paper. Tapping it gently to gain Maca’s attention, Zulema slid the small gift box across the table, nonchalantly. Chin resting in her palm, her eyes flickered up to gauge Maca’s reaction. 

“Zulema, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s small. Nothing crazy. But I wanted you to have it.” Zulema raised her brows expectantly and Maca picked it up. It was light, and Maca was even more intrigued. She unwrapped the wrapping paper to reveal the box inside. Shimmying off the lid, it was Maca’s turn to raise her brows. 

The blonde looked at Zulema and gave her a questioning look.

“Keys. To my house,” explained Zulema.

Maca’s jaw dropped as she picked up the keyring that held two keys, one silver and one gold. There was a pure silver keychain attached, shaped like a tiny silver scorpion.

“Fatima,” Maca said and Zulema smiled, shrugging slightly. With an air of nostalgia, Zulema mentioned, “I really liked that scorpion.”

Macarena shook her head and leaned over her seat. Zulema met her halfway and kissed her softly. 

When they pulled away, Maca smiled. “Zulema, I-I don’t know what to say.”

Zulema shrugged. “That you will use it,  _ rubía _ .”

“Of course I will.” 

  
  



	20. New Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which Maca is the cliche white girl that investigates strange noises when she's supposed to be home alone.
> 
> happy birthday, nichole, and happy belated birthday, lauren!

In the end, Macarena had decided that it was too soon to bring Zulema home to her parents for Christmas, and while it was only for two nights, the pair still sent an abundance of text messages. Maca confessed to Román that her ‘crush’ on Zulema had actually turned into something much more. Naturally, he wanted details, but Macarena had quickly changed the subject by asking about the hints of a secret relationship that he’d been dropping on his social media accounts. 

For New Year‘s Eve, Macarena, Rizos, and a gaggle of their friends went to see DJ Vargas spinning at Cruz. Zulema arrived just after ten and was pulled up onto the stage with Saray. 

_ “Is that  _ Zulema _ up there?” Rizos had shouted over the music.  _

_ Maca turned from her place at the bar and her jaw dropped. There, at the DJ booth was Zulema, cigarette in hand, bobbing to the music. Saray was next to her, recording on an iPhone and cheering her on. Macarena had nearly spat out of her drink.  _

_ Was there anything the brunette  _ couldn’t _ do? _

And as the entire crowd counted backward from ten, Zulema’s eyes found hers. Macarena desperately wished she could have gone up to the stage, hopped up, and pulled Zulema down into a searing kiss. 

Instead, while everyone shouted ‘ _ Happy New Year!’ and kissed their significant others —or whatever stranger that was next to them— _ Maca and Zulema raised their glasses to one another. 

The next thing Macarena knew, it was the second full week of January, and classes had resumed. Her class load was lighter than it had been during the fall semester, but the classes, themselves, were heavy in content. This was her final semester in graduate school and it could make or break her career. She promised herself that she would give her all, and would not let anything or anyone distract her from her final goal.

“Congratulations, you have all made it to spring semester,” Zulema announced as she breezed into the lecture hall. 

She dropped her bag and laptop on the desk in front of the class and looked at her class. In faux leather skinny pants, one of her signature band tees, no blazer, and her hair pulled back in a ponytail, Zulema looked the epitome of cool. 

“Some of you sailed through the fall semester, while others skated by with the grace of God.” She pulled herself up onto her desk, slipping one ankle under her thigh and picking up her travel mug. “That will not work this semester. The next five months will be the most challenging of your entire school career. So, say goodbye to your tequila-filled weekends and  _ Temptation Island  _ marathons.”

The class laughed. Macarena and Rizos rolled their eyes, playfully. 

“ _ Vale _ ,” Zulema said, taking a sip from her coffee, “let’s start easy. What is the one thing you need to keep in mind when profiling an offender?”

No one said anything and a few people turned to look at their peers in confusion. 

“ _ Everyone _ lies,” Zulema told them, “especially offenders.” A few heads bowed as people started scribbling notes on sheets of paper or typing them onto their laptops. “You will have offenders who lie about committing crimes. ‘No, I’m innocent’, or even ‘yes, I did it’. And others will lie about the nature of their crimes. Some will exaggerate the number of their victims for more notoriety. Others will downplay their victim count. They will even lie about their own lives.”

A hand raised in the back and Zulema jutted her chin at the student. 

“Isn’t that a cynical way of looking at the world?”

“Perhaps,” Zulema answered with a shrug, “but if you want to work with criminals, you have to be a realist, and  _ realistically _ the truth is that  _ everyone lies _ . The average man lies about forty-two times a week and the average woman lies about twenty-one times a week.”

The topic sparked an incredible debate that made the time pass quickly and before Zulema knew it, her watch buzzed against her arm and she looked at it, brows raised. 

“Looks like we’re out of time, guys, but just remember the series of lectures for the next few weeks will prepare you all for the prison experiment in April, so you’ll need very detailed notes. Also, sign-ups for the prison experiment will start in two weeks’ time. I should warn you all that participation in the experiment is on a first-come, first-serve basis. Your assignment for the week is to read chapters twenty through twenty-five and write a three-to-five-page summary on them. Class dismissed.”

* * *

“ _ Rubia,  _ if you don’t already know, Zulema’s birthday is this Friday.”

Maca knew. She also had to convince Saray not to throw an enormous party because Zulema absolutely hated the idea of getting older. One night, post-coital and drifting between wakefulness and slumber, Zulema admitted that she hated the idea that she would die before Maca. That, of course, opened a door of emotions that Zulema quickly shut.

_ “Who says I won’t die before you?” Maca had asked. Almost immediately, she wanted to kick herself. She hadn't considered… Hanbal.  _

_ “Then I would probably die of a broken heart.” _

The next morning, they didn’t talk about it at all, but Zulema had kept her in bed a little longer and Maca had kissed her a little softer. 

So, with a lightened course load, Maca was left with a lot of free time on her hands and she decided to spend the entirety of her Wednesday trying to find the perfect gift for Zulema. She dragged Rizos through both Calle de Preciados followed by Calle Gran Vía in search of something that would reward Macarena with that childlike smile that lit up Zulema’s entire face. 

It was nearly dinnertime when they stepped out of the final store. Right forearm weighed down by things she’d bought for herself, Maca carefully held her unique find in both hands. 

“I can’t believe you bought that for Zulema.”

“It means something. She’ll love it.” 

“You know her better than I do.”

They stepped out to cross the road towards Maca’s car and as Maca shoved her bags into the backseat, Rizos noticed a note tucked under the windshield wiper. She plucked it from its spot and handed it over to Maca as she climbed into the car behind her. 

“What’s this?”

Rizos shrugged as she put on her seatbelt. “Probably a party flier.”

Maca opened it up and scanned its contents. In quick scrawl was:  _ Who do you think you are? Stay out of the way. _

Maca looked around. People bustled past on the busy sidewalk and others crossed the street to reach the other side of the shopping plaza, but none seemed to pay them any attention. 

“What the fuck?”

“What an asshole.” Rizos, who’d read it over her shoulder, rolled her eyes and snatched the note. “A simple ‘make sure you’re not in two parking spots next time’ would have sufficed.”

“People can be so rude after the holidays.”

Tearing up the note, Rizos put it in Maca’s cup holder and distracted her friend as they pulled out of the parking space. “So, I think you should surprise Zulema naked.”

Maca laughed as they sailed down the street, careful of any crossing pedestrians. “You always think someone should surprise someone else naked.”

“Because the look on their face is always priceless!”

Maca simply shook her head in amusement as Rizos mimicked Nerea’s shocked expression. 

Maca’s outrage at the note was completely forgotten. 

* * *

Friday. 

_ Finally _ . 

It was a special day. Zulema’s birthday.

Maca opened the front door to Zulema’s house with the key she’d been gifted, balancing two brown paper grocery bags and Zulema’s delicate gift in her arms. Zulema wasn’t meant to be home for another hour or so, and by then Macarena had planned on having dinner cooked and a romantic table for two on Zulema’s patio ready for when the birthday girl arrived.

She found her way to the kitchen and placed the groceries on the island. Her phone became a stereo and she danced around the kitchen as she started to prep dinner. The sound of the floor creaking above her made her pause in her movements. She pressed pause on her phone and then waited for a beat to see if she would hear it again. 

Sure enough, there it was. She checked the time and her brows furrowed. Zulema’s car hadn’t been in its usual spot in the driveway when Macarena pulled in.

Up the stairs and down the hall she went to investigate the source of the noise. The kitchen was under Zulema’s guest room. Maca had never been inside of it; there was no reason why she would. When she slept over, she shared Zulema’s enormous bed, and the only other room that she’d seen Zulema in was her home office. 

The room at the opposite end of the hallway was normally wide open and the natural light of its bay window usually shone beautifully in the hallway. The door, however, was only slightly ajar. She made her way towards it and peeked inside to find Zulema knelt on the floor with a flowy chiffon tunic shirt and cropped linen pants. Before her was a large glass bowl filled halfway with water. The brunette dipped both hands into the bowl, caressing the water against the skin of her hands, and then flicked them dry towards her left side. She did it twice more in succession and then washed each arm up to her elbows three times. 

Macarena felt as if she was interrupting a private moment, so she turned on heels and headed back downstairs quietly to finish dinner. 

* * *

“Earlier, what were you—?” Maca trailed off, wondering if she was overstepping. “Were you praying?”

Zulema’s chewing slowed and she looked at Macarena, clearly amused. The blonde didn’t think she was going to respond until she visibly swallowed her food and smiled. “Always so curious.”

Maca grinned, shrugging nonchalantly, though Zulema could tell she wanted to ask more questions. 

“It was a purification wudhu, a sort of partial ablution. Cleansing parts of the body before formal prayers.” Zulema shrugged and pushed the tines of her fork into another roasted red potato. “I figured I’d start this new year of life the right way.”

Macarena looked at Zulema, eyes twinkling with wonder. “Well, the part that I did see was beautiful.”

Zulema smiled but changed the subject. “Thank you for dinner. This is all I wanted tonight.”

“Really?” Maca asked, cheesing broadly and leaning closer to Zulema. 

“Really,” Zulema reassured her and mimicked her body language, kissing the blonde softly.

“I have a gift for you.”

“Dinner isn’t my gift?”

Maca shook her head and kissed Zulema again before she jumped up from the table to retrieve Zulema's gift. She returned to the table with the small silver box, setting it on the table.

“Pull the top off gently,” instructed Maca. 

Zulema did as she was told, pulling off the lid. The four corners of the box fell flat onto the table, revealing a small, live scorpion. 

“Macarena,” Zulema breathed. She picked up the scorpion by its tail and sat it in the palm of her hand, bringing it to her eye level. 

“The exotic animal store owner said she’s a girl and she’s almost a year old.”

“Maca, you don’t know how much this means to me,” Zulema confessed. 

“Well, I’m not going anywhere, so maybe one day you’ll tell me.”

Zulema leaned over and kissed her again. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. What are you going to name her?”

Zulema considered this for a few moments. “Maisa.”

“That’s pretty. What does it mean?”

“‘She who walks with pride’.”

Macarena wanted to ask why she chose that name, but she had a feeling Zulema would tell her in her own time. 

A little bit after dinner, Zulema had made Maisa a temporary home in a large shoebox in her closet before hopping in the shower while Maca prepared dessert.

Zulema walked out of the en-suite into her bedroom, towel drying her hair. She froze when she saw what awaited her.

Macarena Ferreiro was on the bed in nothing but Zulema’s glasses, holding a small, chocolate cake. 

“Happy birthday, Professor Zahir.”

Rizos was right. Zulema’s face was priceless. Her lips had parted, and her gaze shifted down and back up. Her eyes reached the heavens and she mouthed ‘thank you’. 

She dropped the towel she was using to dry her hair onto the ground and launched into the bed, making Macarena squeal with laughter. 

“You’re going to make me drop the cake onto the bed.”

“ _ Rubia _ ,” Zulema rasped, “I’m about to devour you both, I don’t care what the sheets look like after I’m done.” 

She blew out the candle and swiped at the buttercream frosting with her middle finger and held it out to Maca who leaned forward and sucked the digit into her mouth.

Emerald eyes darkened and Macarena knew she was in for a treat.


	21. San Valentín

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternate chapter title: every detail matters. 🕵️♀️

Zulema’s newest lecture series broke down the informal rules and tactics used by herself, as well as some of the best criminal psychologists with whom she’d been acquainted. Each week, she delivered an important aspect of investigative psychology, and the following week, she would collect a five-page paper on her lecture and its corresponding chapters of their text. Zulema hadn’t been joking when she said the spring semester would be the most intense ever. The work was exhausting, but the content was incredible. Like many of her classmates, Macarena truly felt like Zulema was singlehandedly preparing them to become professionals in their industry.

It was a crisp February evening when Macarena sat cross-legged on the floor of Zulema’s TV room. She was alternating between highlighting passages in her textbook and typing a paper on her computer while Zulema cooked dinner when the doorbell rang. Before either of them could stop their tasks, the front door opened and then slammed closed. Saray called Zulema’s name as she walked down the front hall.

“Kitchen!” Zulema yelled back. Moments later, the tall brunette made an appearance, holding up a file folder. She dropped it on the bar top and then plucked a carrot from the pile of vegetables that Zulema had been slicing. 

“ _ Qué es esto _ ?” Zulema asked, jutting her chin towards the folder. 

“Interesting case that you may want to take a look at,” Saray made her way over to the stove and lifted the top off of one of the pots to see what was boiling. She stirred its contents for Zulema and then went to sit in one of the bar stools while mentioning, “There are some similarities between that and the profile you started on Hanbal’s case.”

Zulema’s eyes flickered up to where Macarena continued to work on her paper while pretending she couldn’t hear their conversation. Saray noticed and turned to look over her shoulder to finally notice Maca’s presence. Gaze returning to Zulema, Saray lifted her brows and smirked. Zulema's eyes rolled back to the vegetables, ignoring Saray’s unspoken comments. 

“How’d you get a copy of his file?”

“The girl in the records room of the prison likes me.”

Zulema scoffed. “Of course she does.”

“Don’t hate the playa, Zule. Hate the game.”

“Noted,” Zulema replied, tone dipped in sarcasm and amusement. 

“Anyway, one of my patients at the prison is trying to get time off for good behavior. His cellmate is getting out in a week and confided in him that he was considering a reoffense.”

“And?”

“Read the file. See what he went in for,” Saray responded. Zulema glanced up and they had a silent conversation for a few moments. 

“Are you staying for dinner?”

Saray shook her head. “No, Nuria is cooking at her place.”

Zulema used the knife to slide the vegetables into a bowl and then picked up the glass of wine beside her. She smirked into the sip she took. 

“So you like this one, no?” Zulema asked. Saray dismissed the conversation  _ and _ Zulema’s wordless offer of the wine glass with a wave of her hand. 

Picking up the tan folder, Zulema opened it up and scanned the summary on the left. 

“Twenty-five-year-old power reassurance offender. He was eighteen when they handed him a thirteen-year sentence. They're releasing him after only eight years?”

Saray nodded. “The police didn’t think he worked alone. According to my patient, he seemed to be a more submissive type.”

“So he had a more dominant partner. Probably planned the entire assault and murder and then let him take the fall.”

“Yeah, he was young when he started.”

“You think the dominant partner groomed him to become a murder?”

“That’s what I’m thinking.” Saray rested her forearms on the countertop but her hands still gesticulated as she spoke. “Most likely an older male. Late forties, maybe early fifties. In a position of power. Brilliant enough to not only plan the murder but to manipulate this kid into believing that going to prison would benefit them both.”

Zulema shook her head, returning the file folder to her best friend. 

“His dominant counterpart can’t be Hanbal’s murderer.”

“Why not?”

Zulema sighed. “Because  _ my  _ unsub prefers to work alone. Every detail matters to him. There’s no way he’d let another player into his game. Especially not an eighteen-year-old kid who could potentially fuck it up.” She made her way to the stove, turning up the heat and adding the rest of her ingredients. “He’s a motherfucker, Saray, but he’s still a genius.”

“We’ll get him.” Saray’s voice was full of the pitiful kind of hope better reserved for helping a friend find their lost pet. Exasperated, Zulema tilted her head towards the ceiling, eyes closed as she tried to breathe through her oncoming emotions. 

“Yeah,” was all she said. 

After Saray left, dinner was ready and Maca could tell by the way Zulema pushed her food around her plate that the conversation with Saray had soured her mood. After dinner, she holed herself up in her home office, pouring over any possible discrepancies in her own profile. 

“Hey, you coming to bed?” Maca had asked after rapping on the doorframe with her knuckles.

“Yeah. I’ll be there shortly.” Zulema didn’t look up from her computer when she responded. 

And she didn’t crawl into bed until well after Maca had drifted off to sleep while trying to wait up for her. 

* * *

_ Rizos’ apartment, Friday 22:08 _

“Valentine’s Day,” Saray announced to their table resulting in a series of groans from her dining companions. “ _ Que _ ?”

“Saray, is there any holiday that you don’t make a big deal about?” Macarena asked.

“Labor Day,” Saray replied as if it was the most obvious answer.

Maca snorted. 

“Anyway, Zulema has a great idea if you guys are in.”

Macarena looked over at Zulema whose facial expression gave nothing away. “Zulema Zahir? A secret romantic?” The corner of Zulema’s mouth twitched upward, but that was all she would give away.

“Las Moradas de San Martín is having a wine tasting with a special theme for Valentine’s Day.”

“What’s the theme?” Rizos asked. 

“Aphrodisiacs,” Saray grinned at Millán who was sitting beside her. “Along with the wine, there will be little treats and meals that are considered aphrodisiacs. So, chocolate, strawberries, figs, oysters.” She waved a hand as if to say ‘ _ and so forth _ ’. 

“We’re in,” Rizos said, leaning against Nerea who kissed her temple. 

“Yeah, it sounds like a good time,” Nerea agreed. 

“What about you two lovebirds?” Saray inquired, mischievous eyes dancing between Zulema and Macarena.

While it was hard to distance herself from Zulema on campus, there was something about having a secret relationship with one of the most respected professors on campus that made Maca’s body tingle whenever she and Zulema were in the same room with other people. But it was nice to be able to spend time with Zulema in front of their friends and not worry about their relationship becoming the above-the-byline story in the campus newspaper. 

“Well, since I came up with the idea, it’s really up to  _ rubia _ .”

Maca smiled. “Of course I want to go.”

Saray clapped her hands together once, excitement in her face. “Then it’s settled. Operation  _ Cachonda  _ is a-go.”

“Ugh, Saray!” Rizos picked up a cherry tomato at the same Maca picked up an olive and in unison, they both tossed them at Saray who caught them easily.

“I’m just saying what we’re all thinking.”

Just before they left, as Rizos gathered their jackets from the hall closet, Nerea pulled Maca to the side. Zulema noticed, but said nothing, despite her body temperature rising by five degrees. Especially when Nerea pulled Macarena into a tight hug.

* * *

_ Las Moradas de San Martín Vineyard, Valentine’s Day, 13:59 _

Nestled on the edge of the region of Madrid, Las Moradas was one of the most idyllic wineries. Despite only being twenty years old, its family of winemakers had been practicing their craft for centuries, perfecting the velvety wines that the group of friends had planned to taste. 

Their tour guide, Carolina, walked quickly and gave them interesting anecdotes about each section of the winery as they passed by. She told them the history and process of each glass of wine and why it paired perfectly with different types of chocolate. 

About an hour into the tasting, Macarena realized that Zulema hadn’t stopped touching her for twenty minutes. There was the light, discreet caress of her exposed lower back followed by Zulema’s hand trailing lower to rest on Maca’s ass where she squeezed just enough that Maca knew her intentions but not enough to draw attention from their tour group. Somewhere between the red and blush wines and just after their third piece of dark chocolate, Zulema pushed blonde romance curls behind Maca’s shoulder and her thumb drew a soft circle against the soft wisps of hair at the nape of her neck. Goosebumps raised on her skin and her nipples hardened, but no sooner had she leaned into the touch, Zulema removed her hand. 

She was teasing her. 

_ Two could play that game. _

Maca had  _ accidentally _ dropped her wine scorecard that she’d been giving at the beginning of the tour. In her tiny little dress, she bent over in front of Zulema to retrieve it and when she rose to her full height, Zulema was chewing the inside of her right cheek, suppressing a grin. Then, there was the melted chocolate that she sucked off her finger while gazing into Zulema’s eyes. Her jaw clenched and her eyelids fluttered, but that was all Zulema gave. 

Surprisingly enough, the thing that set Zulema off was when Maca reapplied her vibrant red lipstick in her compact mirror. She rolled it on smoothly, rolled her lips together for maximum application, and when she closed her compact, she threw Zulema a wink. 

Minutes after, Zule grabbed Maca’s hand, tugging gently as she discreetly held the blonde back from following the tour group. Once the group had rounded the corner, Zulema pulled Macarena to her, kissing her soundly. She deepened the kiss when Maca’s lips parted to moan into Zulema’s mouth. 

“Zulema,” Maca breathed when they separated for air. She let the older woman pull her deeper into the rows of stacked wine barrels. Maca found herself pressed against the oak and iron with Zulema’s hands trailing up the soft skin of her thigh. 

“This dress is—,” Zulema trailed off as she looked down. Clingy in the right places with exaggerated puffed sleeves, the backless red satin dress matched Maca’s lipstick perfectly. Zulema wanted nothing more than to see what it looked like in a puddle on her bedroom floor. For now, she settled for hiking it up just enough so that Zulema could lift Maca’s leg, pressing their groins together.

And then Maca felt it. 

“ _ Oh _ .”

Zule gave Macarena a cocky, questioning look. Instead of a verbal answer, Maca slammed her mouth back against Zulema’s and her hands worked quickly to unbuckle Zulema’s belt and unzip her pants. Hand inside Zulema’s pants, Maca tongue tapped the roof of her mouth and she smiled devilishly at Zulema. It was the last straw for Zulema; the brunette reached between them and roughly pulled Macarena’s panties to the side. Awed, Zulema watched as Maca pulled the phallus out of her tailored suit pants and teased herself with it. Already wet and  _ so fucking ready _ for Zulema’s strap, she lined the head of it up with her entrance and sank on it. Zulema’s eyes shot to Macarena’s face to create the memory of Macarena’s eyes closing, brows furrowing, and head killing backward in relief. Zulema’s mouth magnetized to Maca’s neck. Maca’s hands pushed open the tailored suit jacket to get to Zulema’s bare breasts and Zulema thanked god she hadn’t worn a shirt. Her body was alight with desire and Maca’s touch only seemed to fan the flames. 

Hand hooked under Maca’s knee to support the blonde, Zulema began with a few tentative strokes, enjoying the escalation of Macarena’s breathing before she started a punishing rhythm. They had to be quick and they had to be quiet, and that seemed to turn the blonde on even more. 

Especially after she moaned and Zulema muttered, “If you can’t play quietly, I’ll take your toy away.” Maca’s head had fallen into Zulema’s neck then, and her pussy fluttered around the shaft as she briefly wondered if she could die from a pleasure overload.

Maca whispered a series of chants in her ear as Zulema fucked her within an inch of her life. The base ring of the strap-on slammed against Zulema’s clit and her hips moved on autopilot, chasing the feeling. It didn’t take long before she felt it happening. She was going to topple over the edge. 

“Call me  _ cari _ like you do,” Zulema panted into Maca’s hair. The request surprised Macarena; Zulema had never admitted aloud that she liked the pet name. 

With one hand squeezing Zulema’s bare breasts, Maca twisted her hand around Zulema’s ponytail and tugged her head backward. She licked a trail up Zulema’s neck, nibbling once at her jugular before leaning closer and murmuring into Zulema’s ear, “Come for me,  _ carí _ .”

Maca sensed the moan before it came and she slid her hand from Zulema’s tit to her mouth, effectively muffling it. 

With the release of oxytocin urging her on, Zulema doubled her efforts into fucking Maca into the barrels of aging wine, fingers slipping between them and giving her clit the attention it needed. She murmured ‘ _ mine _ ’ into the final three thrusts before Maca’s mouth opened in a silent scream that never came even as she did. 

They took a few moments to catch their breath. Maca shivered as Zulema pulled out. Fixing their clothing, each preened the other until they looked presentable enough to approach the tour group from behind. The guide was going over the rich history of the next wines on their list to try when Rizos turned around and smirked at the pair. 

“Nice of you to join us,” she whispered.

Maca stuck her tongue out childishly and Zulema chuckleD.

A while later, the six of them sat at a table that overlooked the sprawling vineyard below. They had just finished a light lunch of oysters and a Niçoise salad and sat at their table talking before they were to head back to the city.

“Okay, guys, I have something that I’d like to say.”

Zulema watched as Maca's spine straightened and an excited grin appeared on her face. She squinted suspiciously at the blonde until Nerea stood from the table, the movement capturing Zulema’s attention. 

“Estefanía, I love you and I love spending time with you. You fill my life with the type of excitement and laughter that I never thought was possible. We’ve been through a lot, but we always come out of any situation stronger than we went into it. I can’t see myself spending my life with anyone else, so—.” Nerea reached into the pocket of her pants and dropped down onto one knee. 

Rizos’ hands flew to her mouth as she gasped in surprise. 

Saray leaned forward, forearms on the table. 

Maca’s smile widened. 

Nuria let out a soft ‘aww’. 

And Zulema was torn between watching for Rizos’ answer and the expression on her best friend’s face. 

“I was wondering,” Nerea continued, “if you would do me the honor of filling my life with excitement and love and happiness forever. Will you marry me?”

Through tears of joy, Rizos nodded. “Of course. Yes, yes I’ll marry you.” She launched into Nerea’s arms, kissing her and then hugging her tightly. 

The pair were congratulated by their friends, even Saray, although she finished the last of the wine by herself after Rizos said yes. Suddenly, Nerea and Maca’s hushed conversation and subsequent hug began to make sense. 

“You knew?” Zulema asked Maca. 

“Of course. I helped her pick out the ring.” Maca smiled. 

“Of course you did.” Zulema looked both impressed and enthralled by Macarena’s big heart. She pressed a kiss just under Maca’s ear and rubbed soft circles against her back as Maca reached over the table to see Rizos’ ring again. 

“Maca,” Rizos gushed as she held her hand over empty wine glasses and into Maca’s waiting hand, “obviously you’re going to be my maid of honor.”

“It’d be  _ my _ honor. We have so much to do. Engagement party, bridal shower,” Maca gasped and then wiggled her eyebrows, “ _ bachelorette party _ .”

“Oh, first you have to come up with themes for each one,” Nuria interjected. 

“That’s true,” agreed Rizos.

“We have plenty of time. I want you to focus on your studies for now and then we’ll set a date after graduation.” 

“ _ Vale _ .”

Eventually, it was time to go. They headed to the gravel parking lot and said their goodbyes before parting ways. 

As Zulema sped through the open road, passing lush green pastures, Macarena couldn’t help but wonder something. 

They were fifteen minutes into their hour drive when Zulema reached over and tugged at the ends of Maca’s hair. 

“What’s on your mind?”

“Would you ever get married again?” Maca asked. 

The brunette wasn’t opposed to the idea of being married again. Internally, she acknowledged that she had trauma that she would eventually have to deal with before she even considered the possibility of betrothal. Saray tried more often than not to work her through it, but she hadn’t been ready. A lot of her resistance stemmed from her lack of progress in Hanbal’s case. If she couldn’t keep  _ him _ safe, what use was it to bring someone else into her world? 

It was also why she resisted the idea of love. Still, matter how hard she tried to keep her feelings for Macarena at bay, Zulema knew, deep down, that it was time to work through those issues because whether she liked it or not, she was falling in love with Macarena Ferreiro. 

Zulema didn’t  _ need _ to tell Macarena how she felt; it was crystal clear in her actions. The feeling was reciprocated, but it would be nice to hear. Macarena had her reservations. She could feel Zulema’s hesitation, so before they even considered marriage, there were some open and honest conversations that they would need to have. Besides the obvious, Maca was working towards her personal goals. Finals, graduation, and starting her career, to name a few. Plus, they had yet to argue. Maca’s mother always told her: ‘ _ you never truly know a person until you’ve seen the way they react when they’re angry _ ’. 

Zulema shrugged. “I never say never.”

That was good enough for Macarena. Not that she was thinking about marriage or children. She still had so much to do, including becoming established in her career. 

But… It was nice to know that they were on the same page. 

The music that was playing quietly in the background suddenly cut off and Zulema looked up at her phone and frowned. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I keep getting calls from unknown numbers.”

“Who is it?”

Zulema shrugged. “I don’t know. Whenever I answer, it’s just dead air and then the call ends.”

“Spam call?” I’ve been getting them a lot recently too.”

“Maybe.” Zulema tapped ‘decline’ and the car was once more filled with tunes. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you want to get married someday?”

“Someday.”

Zulema didn’t say anything else on the topic for the rest of the trip, and neither did Maca. 


	22. Fixtures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last fun/sweet chapter. 8 chapters left of nothing but pure pain. [not] sorry in advance.

_ Monday _

“Do you ever get the feeling that you’re being watched?”

The confused faces in the room made the corners of Zulema’s lips twitch upward.

“I’m a bitch, but I’m not paranoid,” Zulema joked, and her students visibly relaxed via a round of laughter as she walked up the stairs of the lecture hall. “And it’s not a trick question. Have you ever felt like you were being watched? Maybe while you were sitting in the campus library?” She chose a row of seats and plopped down in the aisle seat, placing her right ankle across her left knee. Her students turned to look at her curiously as she continued. “Wait, let me ask in a way that you guys would understand. You’re at a bar--,” the room laughed again, “and you’re waiting to get a drink. Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with the idea that someone is watching you. Your skin tingles. The little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. We’ve all been there, right?”

The majority of them nodded in the affirmative and Zulema smiled. “Usually, we dismiss it as a gut instinct or paranoia, but it’s much more than that. Research shows that the eyes take in information beyond what is processed by the part of our brain that’s responsible for the conscious vision and mapping out our view of the world.”

“The visual cortex,” someone behind Zulema interjected.

Zulema pointed over her shoulder. “ Exactly.  _ That  _ combined with the part of the brain that prompts our sense of fear and also handles facial recognition can aid in not only the safety of law enforcement but also in the apprehension of your unsub. Can anyone tell me why?”

A few hands went up.

“Rizos.”

“It’s like you said: every detail matters. Every law enforcement officer, profilers included, should take in as much detail from a crime scene and case notes as possible. That includes any potential dangers at a crime scene.”

“That’s half of the answer. Who has the other half?”

Hands went up again. Zulema pivoted in her chair to see if anyone behind her was prepared to answer.

“Amaia.”

“A vast majority of unsubs return to the scene of the crime.”

“It’s not a truly reliable adage to live but, but still accurate. Why?”

More hands.

“Macarena.”

“It’s a compulsion. A desire to see the aftermath of their work. The chaos and investigation”

“What about those unsubs that can resist the compulsion?”

Before hands went up, Macarena said, “More often than not, they’ve taken trophies from their victims.”

“Excellent. And it will become  _ your _ job to find out what was taken and why.”

“How will that help our profile?”

“That,” Zulema said, leaned forward, resting her forearms on the empty chair in front of her, “is next week’s lesson. Read chapters thirty through thirty-three and we’ll discuss them. Also, those of you who signed up to participate in the prison experiment, look out for emails this week about the status of your application. Class dismissed.” 

* * *

_ Thursday _

Macarena slammed her shot glass down a one-third of a second after Zulema, and the brunette grinned as she chased the tequila with beer. 

“My turn,” Zulema announced. “Truth or shot?”

Maca looked at the bottle of tequila. There was less than a fourth of the amber liquid left and she wasn’t sure she could take anymore. Zulema, however, was handling her liquor very well. 

Game night had ended an hour ago and their friends had left, leaving Maca and Zulema to clean up. Except they’d gotten as far as cleaning up the board games before Maca challenged Zulema to a game of truth or dare. Not to be outdone, Zulema upped the ante by replacing dares with a shot of tequila.

“Truth,” Maca answered.

“Best sex of your life, and the worst sex of your life. Go.”

“Best sex is you. Worst sex,” Maca thought hard about it. “Oh god, probably my first time.”

“I need details.”

Maca scrunched her nose in disgust. “Carlos Morales. We were seventeen and I just remember he breathed loudly and it was over in five minutes.”

“I bet Carlos now has two annoying little brats and a wife that makes him schedule sex so she can mentally prepare herself,” Zulema joked. 

Maca leaned over the coffee table like she had a good secret to tell. “He sent me a friend request on Facebook. Should we find out?”

Zulema leaned forward too. “The question is why haven’t we already,  _ rubía _ .”

Macarena pulled up the app on her phone and it took a few moments of scrolling through the political posts and the annoying game invites, but eventually, there it was. The family photo. Carlos, his wife, and their two brats. 

“Double or nothing that he’s posted at least  _ one _

“Loser takes a shot?”

“Yeah and has to sleep in the wet spot tonight.”

Macarena’s head shot up and her jaw dropped. Zulema and that _ fucking _ smirk. “You won’t be getting laid until I hear who  _ your _ best sex and worst sex was.”

“Can there be a tie for best sex?”

Maca’s mouth opened wider in shock. “ _ Yo y quien mas _ ?”

“Hanbal.”

Maca looked up at the ceiling, tossing her hands up in disbelief. “Damn you, Hanbal!”

Zulema laughed. “Apples and oranges though.”

“ _ Por supuesto _ ,” Maca agreed. 

“So, best lesbian sex goes to you.”

“ _ Vale _ ,” Maca chuckled. “I’ll take it. Worst sex?”

Zulema grinned and looked down at the coffee table, rubbing her fingertip against a non-existent smudge. 

“I know them, don’t I?”

Zulema nodded. “Helena.”

Macarena burst out into laughter and couldn’t stop herself no matter how hard she tried. 

“Why is that so funny?” Zulema asked, suppressing her laughter. 

Maca eventually settled enough to say, “I don’t know. I was so annoyed by her existence, but now I don’t care at all.”

Zulema shrugged. “You shouldn’t.”

“Well,” Macarena said with finality, “you are  _ definitely _ getting laid tonight.”

“ _ Maravilla _ .” Zulema used the couch behind her for leverage and pushed herself off of the floor. She rounded the table and held out her hand to help Maca up. “You should know something though.”

“What’s that?” 

“I spit half of those tequila shots into that beer bottle.”

Maca gave her girlfriend an incredulous look, gasping dramatically. “Cheater.”

“You’re just mad that you didn’t think of it first.” She stopped in front of Maca and bent at the knees. Maca took the hint and hopped onto Zulema’s back. Zulema hooked her hands under Maca’s knees and carried her into the bedroom. 

* * *

_ Friday _

“...I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was important,” Maca heard Zulema say as the front door to her apartment opened and closed. Zulema appeared, holding a brown paper grocery bag in one hand and her laptop in the other while balancing the phone between her right shoulder and ear. Maca stood from the couch and took the groceries from her, heading to the kitchen. 

“I don’t want to be  _ that _ guy but I seem to recall me saving your life once. So, technically you owe me.” There was a pause and Zulema full-on laughed, sparking Macarena’s interest. There were only a few people that could make Zulema laugh, her and Saray being two of them. Zulema followed Macarena into the kitchen, setting her laptop on a counter. “I appreciate you, Alta. Call me with whatever you find.”

Without even saying goodbye, Zulema ended the call and dropped her phone on top of the laptop. She trapped Maca against the counter, wrapping an arm around her waist. “ _ Hola _ .”

Macarena pressed her lips against Zulema’s. “I’m starving,  _ carí _ . I thought you were gonna be here an hour ago.”

Zulema inhaled deeply and let Macarena go. She busied herself with removing the ingredients for dinner from the grocery bag. “Yeah, something came up.”

Macarena watched as Zulema tried her hardest to avoid making eye contact. “What came up?”

“Nothing serious.” The ‘ _ I hope _ ’ was left unsaid. “Do you want asparagus or carrots,  _ conejita _ ?” 

Zulema had taken to calling Macarena her ‘little bunny’ because of Macarena’s willingness to have sex any time and any place, and while it was amusing most days, it wasn’t in that moment. Mainly because Macarena knew that Zulema was using it to distract her from the subject at hand.

Arms crossed and brows knitted together, Macarena waited. When no explanation came, she tried again. “Zulema.”

“ _ Que _ ?”

“What came up?”

Zulema stopped unwrapping the veggies and looked at Macarena. “It’s going to sound insane.”

Maca raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. 

“I think I was being followed.”

“Why?”

“There was this black SUV that seemed to go everywhere I went.”

Maca pulled a few spices from their rack and set them down. “Maybe they were just headed in the same direction as you.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too. Until I made three consecutive rights and then a left and they did the same.”

“Okay, that’s creepy.”

“Exactly and I didn’t want to lead them  _ here _ , so I took a detour.”

Maca nodded. “Well, what was the outcome?”

“I drove to the police station. No sooner had I parked, the SUV sped past. It might be nothing, but I want you to come to the gun range with me this weekend just in case.”

Maca wasn’t an idiot. She knew that Zulema had guns in her house. She was a former CNI agent, but was she really that concerned?

“Did you get a license plate?”

“Partial. An old colleague is going to run it for me.”

“ _ Alta _ ,” Macarena said. It wasn’t a question. She turned to her left, reaching into the cupboard above her to find a mixing bowl. 

Zulema squinted, head lifting like it did when she was analyzing something. “ _ Si _ .”

“Mhm,” the blonde responded. 

Zulema turned on the stove and sighed. “You’ve very jealous.”

“Can you blame me?”

Zulema was beautiful. Established. Brilliant. 

_ Older _ .

She told Zule as much.

As the shrimp stir-fry began to take form, Zulema kept her back turned to her girlfriend. Sometimes it was easier to ask a hard question or receive an uncomfortable answer when one didn’t have to be seen. 

“Have I given you a reason to believe that your age matters to me?” 

“No,” Maca replied. She watched as Zulema nodded in acknowledgment and continued to cook. 

“Does it matter to you?”

“Of course not,” Macarena told her. “But I can’t help but think that we’re so different. I sit in your class and I feel like… like I know  _ nothing _ . And you know  _ so much _ .” 

Zulema chuckled. “It’s my job to know things. It’ll be your job too, but wisdom doesn’t come with age. It comes with experience. Experience that you’ll get soon enough.”

Maca didn’t say anything else as she opened the tops of the spices and poured generous amounts into the bowl. She suddenly felt Zulema’s front press against her back. The brunette gently pulled her hair back, giving Zulema access to her neck. The older woman pressed a kiss to Maca’s neck and shoulder. 

Physical touch, and words of affirmation, as Zulema had learned, were Macarena’s love languages. And even if she didn’t admit it, so we’re Zulema’s. 

“I only want you.”

Maca turned in Zulema’s arms, resting her own on Zulema’s shoulders. She pouted theatrically and Zulema shook her head, smiling at the blonde. Maca’s smile quickly followed.

“I only want you too.”

Playfully, Zulema planted a rough kiss on Maca’s cheek and tapped the side of her ass before turning back to the stove to finish their dinner. 

Maca stared at Zulema as she moved around Maca’s kitchen. She looked like she belonged there, as much of a fixture as the lights or the fridge. And when Zulema reached out for the mixing bowl of seasonings, she winked as the blonde handed it over and Maca hoped she would stay. 

Forever. 


	23. When A Stranger Calls

_ Saturday _

“Hand here.  _ Bueno _ . Support under here with the other one.  _ Muy bien _ . Now push and pull with the same force.” Zulema instructed as she adjusted Maca’s hands. “Perfect. Feet shoulder-width apart. Right foot slightly behind the left. Beautiful.” She placed Maca’s noise-canceling headphones over her ears and then took a few steps back. 

“Don’t tuck your chin. This gun is different from the earlier two. It’s semi-automatic so the shell casings will automatically eject from the chamber and you don’t want one popping you in the eye.”

Maca lifted her head.

“Good girl.”

_ Oof.  _

“On your ready,” Zulema told her. 

Maca inhaled, closing her eyes briefly and opened them as she exhaled. She held her stance, lined the barrel up with her target, and nodded her head. A buzzer sounded and the red light above her head turned green. 

Her pointer finger gently squeezed the trigger. The muffled gunshot sounded through Maca’s headphones and she felt the vibrations from the recoil radiate along the course of her arms. Twice more she fired, each time going for the head and the heart of the outlined figure printed on stock paper. 

She placed the gun down on the waist-high counter and pulled her headphones down to rest around her neck and pressed the button to bring her target sheet closer. 

She plucked it from its clips and turned to show Zulema, smiling proudly. “ _ Mira _ ,  _ carí _ .”

Zulema pulled off her own headphones and took the paper from Maca, examining it. “You did very well.”

“‘Very well’? I kicked ass.” Maca said, pointing to the chest shot. 

Zulema grinned. 

“You think you can do better?”

“I’m not one to brag.”

“Since when?”

Zulema’s smirk widened and she put her headphones back on. She stepped up to her stall, three different handguns of varying calibers set before her. Maca put on her headphones as well and waited. Zulema nodded once and the light turned green. She picked up the first gun, single-handedly, and fired two quick shots, one to the heart, one to the head. 

It was sexy seeing Zulema handle guns with such expertise and finesse. She was clearly in her element.

Zule repeated the shots in quick succession with the remaining two pistols and then she pressed the same button Maca had to bring her target closer. Yanking it down, Zulema turned and held up her stock paper. Three clustered bullet holes were arranged perfectly directly between the eyes and three more exactly where the heart would be. 

“I can do it with my left hand too. Wanna see?” 

Maca crossed her arms. “Show off.”

Zulema chuckled and threw an arm over Maca’s shoulder. “A couple more practices with me and you’ll be just as good.”

“I’d better be. Otherwise, I want a new teacher.”

Zulema kissed Maca’s cheek and murmured. “No one can teach you as well as I can.” 

Maca turned her head to look at Zulema, dimples appearing. “Tell me again how you don’t like to brag.” 

* * *

_ March, Sunday, 13:13, Zulema’s house _

Midterms week, as always, was a stressful time for the blonde. They’d had a study party at Rizos’ on Friday night, but for some reason, Maca still felt unprepared. So, with Zulema out at the supermarket, Maca had plenty of peace to study. She was halfway through highlighting an important paragraph when Zulema’s house phone rang. Book in hand, Maca picked up the phone, balancing it against her shoulder as she finished highlighting her passage. “Zahir residence.”

No response. 

“Hello?”

Nothing. The line clicked and the dial tone sounded in her ear. Maca hung up the phone but before she could turn to make her way back to the sanctuary of the TV room, the phone rang again. She picked it up once more, setting her book down on the bar top in the kitchen. 

“Zahir residence.”

Still nothing.

“Stop calling here!”

She slammed the cordless phone down on its receiver and huffed. 

“Whoa. Who was that?” Zulema asked, startling Maca. 

Hand over her heart, the younger woman gasped, “ _ Joder _ , Zulema. I’m going to put a bell around your neck.”

The brunette put down two bags of groceries. “What happened?”

Maca shook her head, gathering herself. “I don’t know. Some idiot keeps calling, not saying anything, then hanging up.”

“It’s been happening all week. I have Alta tracing all of my calls. Next time, try to keep them on the phone for at least fifteen seconds.”

Maca nodded and sighed. “I feel like I’m living in a horror movie.”

Zulema laughed. “Just wait until you’re a profiler. The paranoia is unreal. Everyone will become an unsub.”

Maca groaned dramatically and pulled a face as she wrapped her arms around Zulema’s waist. Zulema wrapped an arm around Maca’s neck. 

“What class are you studying for?”

“Crim Psych and Profiling with Dr. Zahir.”

“Damn, tough class.”

“Tell me about it. I wonder if she would just give me an ‘A’ me if I seduced her.”

Zulema  _ really _ laughed then. “You never know until you try.”

She picked Maca up and sat her on the kitchen island, bags of groceries be damned. 

* * *

_ Monday _

“Does. Profiling. Actually. Work?” That was how Zulema started class. She paced in front of her desk before rounding it. Tapping the spacebar on her laptop, the smart board lit up, revealing a graph. 

Zulema’s arm raised to point at the starting point in the graph. “In 2011, CNI’s closure rate began to steadily rise. This was the year that the Behavioral Analysis Unit was established here in Spain. By 2015, their closing rate went from fifty-eight percent to ninety-two percent. There were only ten of us in the unit then.”

“ _ Espera _ ,  _ profesora _ .” A hand went up in the back. “These are  _ your _ stats?”

Zulema shrugged. “It was a team effort, but yes. Now, there are ”

“ _ Disculpe _ , but why did it drop to seventy-six percent between 2015 and 2017?”

_ She left _ , Maca thought. 

“Our unit lost a member and then I took a teaching job here at MU.” Zulema smiled softly and pointed to the board again. “The point is, you will get push back from people, even fellow law enforcement agents, that believe profiling is nothing but guesswork. It’s your job to believe in what you do, and the numbers will speak for themselves.” She shut her laptop and the screen went blank. “ _ Vale _ , clear your desks and separate yourselves by at least two seats. Your midterm starts when everyone has an exam in their hands.” She handed a stack of exams to the person at the front of each row and they distributed them until everyone had a copy. 

“You have two hours. Make me proud.”

* * *

_ Two weeks later… _

_ “Dear Ms. Ferreiro, _

_ You have been chosen as a participant in Madrid University’s 2021 prison experiment. Your chosen role will be as follows: _

_ Prisoner #02.643 _

_ On Friday, 9 April 2021, please report to the quadrangle in front of the Amin Building (Criminal Justice building) at 09:00. Please be on time. The experiment will last the duration of the weekend and will end at 09:00 on Sunday, 11 April 2021.  _

_ You will be assigned your prisoner uniform upon arrival. Please wear comfortable shoes and bring any personal necessities. If you have any allergies, please note them on the form attached to this email.  _

_ If you have any questions or concerns, please email Dr. Zulema Zahir as z.zahir@mu.edu or call her office at +34-755-5110.  _

“Rizos, check your uni email! I just got my letter.”

“What letter?”

“To Hogwarts,” Maca replied sarcastically with a roll of her eyes. “For the prison experiment.”

She and Rizos were sitting atop a fleece throw blanket in the grass outside of the university’s law library. They’d decided to enjoy lunch outdoors in the warm spring weather while they worked on their respective assignments. 

Rizos let out an excited squeal and clapped her hands. “I’m a prisoner!”

“I’m not surprised at all.”

“My mom would be so proud. What’s your role?”

“Prisoner.”

“Maybe we’ll be cellmates.” 

They chatted excitedly about what they thought the experiment would be about. Maca told Rizos what Román had told her about what happened during the experiment when he participated. 

And it was when Rizos took a call, that Maca leaned back, hands flat on the blanket behind her, and closed her eyes. She let the sun beam down on her face and the warm breeze blow through her beach waves. When she lowered her head, she was brought face to face with a black SUV across the street. The windows were tinted darker than they should be, and despite the warm weather outside, all three windows except for the driver’s side window were rolled up. Smoke from a cigarette, Maca assumed, swirled from the cracked driver’s side window. Maca’s brows knitted together. 

_ Maybe Zulema wasn’t crazy. _

“I’ll be right back,” Maca murmured to Rizos who was still on the phone. She stood from the blanket, bare feet hitting the cool grass as she marched towards the dark SUV, frustrated. 

Before she could reach the pavement, a cigarette was hurriedly tossed out of the window and the SUV pulled off in a screech of burned rubber. 

Maca froze on the spot. 

_ Okay, Zulema was definitely  _ **_not_ ** _ crazy.  _

She hurried back to their lunch spot and opened her sandwich baggie of raw baby carrots, dumping the unceremoniously onto the ground. Jogging back to the street, she crossed it, barely remembering to look both ways and she reached the spot where the SUV had been idling. Three cigarette butts, identical to one another, were on the ground, one with the embers still burning. Macarena used the baggie to pick it up, extinguish it and then grab the other three before flipping the baggie inside out. 

By the time she was finished, Rizos was off of the phone and standing on the curb opposite Maca, looking confused. 

“What was that about?” Rizos asked when she crossed the street again. 

Maca sighed as they walked back to their blanket. She started from the beginning, telling Rizos about the hang-up calls, and the SUV. 

“So, maybe she or one of her contacts at the CNI can get some DNA off of these cigarette butts. I know it sounds crazy, but—.”

“It doesn’t sound crazy at all. Especially not with what Zulema used to do for a living.”

“She still does sometimes. She helps with some cases whenever her old colleagues call.”

“Not to mention after seeing her stats in class, I wouldn’t be surprised if someone that she put away is out for revenge.”

“That’s helpful, thanks.” Maca chuckled, despite herself. 

“It’s gonna be okay, don’t worry.”

It was a nice thought, but Maca couldn’t help but feel like Rizos was so wrong. 


	24. Prison Wives, Pt. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unedited. I’m busy. judge your mother.

_ Friday _

_ Experiment Day One _

It was just barely after nine a.m., Maca hadn’t even finished her coffee when it was seized from her hands by a uniformed officer the moment they arrived in front of the criminal justice building. A row of police cars lined the parking lot, two stoic officers per car, awaiting their turn to arrest their perpetrators.

“Macarena Ferreiro, you are under arrest for crimes against the Crown…”

“Estefanía Kabila, you are under arrest for crimes against the Crown…”

“Yolanda Montero, you are under arrest for crimes against the Crown...”

Maca’s eyes met Rizos’. They gave each other a look as their hands were pulled behind their backs and their wrists were bound together with handcuffs.

“Kinky,” Rizos commented cheekily, and Maca stifled a snort of laughter. 

As she was read her rights and placed in the rear of a squad car along with her weekender bag, Macarena watched as more future prisoners were arrested. Not long after the final person was read their rights, Zulema, Saray, and Maria appeared through the door of the criminal justice building and stood on the steps speaking amongst themselves. A few moments later, they were joined by Helena and two other professors that were familiar to Maca. They were in good spirits, laughing as they chatted, and it became clear to Maca that they were just as excited for the experiment as Maca and her friends were.

One of the uniformed officers jogged up the steps and said something to Zulema, who nodded her head. He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly before using the pointer finger on the same hand to signal for the cars to head out. 

Almost in unison, the officers got into their cars and, one by one pulled off. Maca sat uncomfortably in the back of the police car and when hers pulled off, she let out an exhale.

“Here we go,” she murmured to herself.

Less than ten minutes later, they arrived in front of a tall building, dark academia radiating from its architecture. Maca could tell they were still on campus because of the sun-bleached University of Madrid flag tucked onto the parapet on the third story. 

Her car door was opened and she was marched to the front of the building, two officers holding either of her biceps. Once inside, the first thing Macarena saw were staff from Madrid University dressed in guards’ uniforms with the school’s coat of armor on the left arm. 

There was a frenzy of commotion and Maca’s eyes shot from corner to corner taking it all in. Behind an intake glass, a “guard” stood and summoned forth handcuffed prisoners to be fingerprinted and processed. Maca noted that at the window, they were uncuffed and handed their overnight bag and two clear cellophane packages containing the most hideous yellow prison uniforms. Maca was sure it would wash her out, but she wasn’t there for the fashion. She was there for the challenge of testing her profiling abilities. 

Once she had been processed and given her uniforms and a moist towelette to wipe the ink from her fingertips, Maca heard the sexiest voice raise to command the entire room.

“Alright, inmates to the right and guards to the left!” Zulema called out.

“Zule,” Saray said. Clipboard in hand, she waved the brunette over and pointed to the paperwork on it. Zulema looked up, brows furrowed. She scanned the line of prisoners and guards before glancing at the list once more. 

“ _ Vale _ , we’re two prisoners short so I’ll play one.” Zulema looked at Saray, expectantly. 

“ _ Joder _ , Zulema,” Saray groaned, eyes reaching the heavens. “Fine. I’ll be a prisoner.”

“Antonio?”

Professor Palacios made his way over to Zulema and the three of them whispered amongst themselves for a moment.

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, once everyone has their uniforms, you’ll be taken to the bathrooms to change. There are six toilet stalls in each bathroom and eight shower stalls. You will be able to use the showers and toilets at any time of the day. For now, you’ll use them to change into your uniforms and then meet in the main hallway where you’ll be shown to your cells by the guards. Once in your cells, you will see a folder on your assigned bunks.  _ Do not let anyone else see the contents of your folder _ . It not only contains your itinerary for the weekend, but it also includes the characteristics you will portray. Any questions so far?”

A couple of hands went up. Palacios pointed to one student. 

“Do we get our one phone call?”

“You wanna call your mommy and tell her you’re about to be my bitch?” Rizos asked.

The entire room broke out into laughter, including the student who asked the question. 

“We aren’t taking your cell phones, but we are asking that you do not post anything about the experiment. Selfies are okay.” Palacios answered. “Any other questions?”

Rizos’ hand went up.

“I’m terrified to know, but yes Estefanía?”

“Do we get conjugal visits?”

“If you ask nicely, maybe I’ll think about it,” Saray replied. A round of “ooo”s made a wave around the room and Rizos rolled her eyes. 

“Any other  _ serious _ questions?”

“Are the cells coed?”

“Girls dorms will be to the left and guys dorms will be on the right. You’ll be able to do as you please once everything on your daily itinerary is checked off.”

Zulema spoke up next. “If that’s all, I’d like you all to give the Madrid Police Academy’s recruits a round of applause for their incredible service today. Not only did some of you get to see what it felt like to be brought into booking, but they have also received practice as well.”

The room clapped and those closest to the doors shook hands with the officers as they were dismissed. 

Zulema and Saray were issued inmate uniforms and then they were off. 

The bathrooms weren’t half as bad as Macarena thought they’d be. They looked as if they belonged in the Bank of Spain or the royal palace instead of a makeshift prison setting. This, Macarena realized, must have been a dormitory once upon a time. 

She changed quickly, went to the bathroom, and washed her hands. Then she was told to line up and wait with everyone else that was finished. Eventually, everyone was led to the main corridor, and Maca was astonished. 

The school had somehow created an entirely life-like prison set, complete with numbered cells on two levels that were connected by a winding staircase. They were brought to the center of the vast common room where a transparent, portable dry-erase board had been wheeled in. There was writing in different colored markers along with staged crime scene photos and case notes. Maca’s eyes scanned it as Zulema, Palacios and Saray gathered in front of it.

“Prisoner X has just been arrested and brought here to await trial for the murder of a family.” Zulema tapped at three different pictures as she stated, “the bodies of mom, dad, and son were all found in the house. Mom was shot in the head, with no evidence of sexual assault. Dad was shot in the heart, of evidence of sexual assault. Son was smothered with a pillow, again, with no evidence of sexual assault.”

Palacios stepped forward and tapped the final colored picture on the board. It was the high school graduation picture of Zulema’s assistant, Maria. “The body of the daughter, eighteen, has not been recovered. Prisoner X told the arresting officer that she’s not dead and she has enough food and water to last her forty-eight hours.”

“It’s  _ your  _ job to find who Prisoner X is  _ and _ where they are keeping the daughter before time runs out for her,” added Saray. “Now, prisoners have an advantage, they’ll be  _ living _ with Prisoner X, albeit unknowingly. Guards will be using case notes, group “therapy” sessions, and evidence obtained from the interrogations of all prisoners that will take place throughout today and tomorrow.”

“If you think you’ve figured out who Prisoner X is, you’ll have an opportunity to say so during any mealtime in the chow hall,” Palacios explained. “If you’re correct, you must explain what profiling and psychology techniques that were used figured it out. Once Prisoner X is exposed, the experiment will end.”

Zulema took over again to say, “You’ll all be playing the roles written down in your detailed welcome packets, stick to the role since none of you are  _ actual _ psychopaths. Keep detailed notes of the characteristics of people around you.” 

“Last thing to know,” Saray finished, “ is that we are here to observe and take notes on the experiment itself, but if you have questions feel free to ask. Until then, we’ll turn it over to the guards.”

Palacios, who Maca assumed would be overseeing the guards. “When I call your name and your room number, please head to that cell and get settled.”

Palacios started calling out names and numbers, two people to a cell. Naturally, Rizos and Macarena were roommates -- _ thank you, Zulema! _ \-- and Rizos let out a squeak of excitement before grabbing Maca’s hand and pulling her to their cell. A bunk bed took up either side of the room, all four beds 

They dropped their bags on the floor by the cell door and immediately went for the packets on the top bunks. They read the names on the front, looking at each other simultaneously and laughing as each realized they’d picked up the other’s file. They traded and Rizos pulled herself up onto the small metal desk that separated the bunks and opened her file folder. Maca climbed onto the top bunk and opened her own. A few minutes of silence went by as they took in the information that they would need.

“So, basically I’m a whore.” Maca muttered to herself.

“Sounds about right,” quipped Rizos without looking up from her file.

“Hey!” Maca laughed.

Rizos held her file to her chest and looked up at Maca. “I just realized that we’ve never had a slumber party. This is gonna be fun.”

Maca chuckled. “Only you would think prison could be the perfect setting for a slumber party.”

“I wish Luna was here. She’d party with me.”

“Yeah, why isn’t she here? I thought she was so excited about this.”

Rizos shrugged. “I don’t know. She probably didn’t meet the academic requirements to participate.”

“She  _ does  _ like to party.”

“Speaking of partying,” Rizos said hopping off of the desk and crossing the room to open her bag, “what would a prison slumber party be without some hooch?” She pulled out an unopened bottle of tequila and grinned wickedly. 

“Rizos!” Maca gasped, eyes wide. “You can’t have alcohol here!”

“Says who? Prisoners get alcohol into prison all the time.”

“I’m going to pretend I don’t see that bottle,” Zulema’s voice came from the entrance to their cell. She stood before them, hands in the pockets of her uniform pants, one brow cocked. Rizos tucked the bottle back into her bag and zipped it closed. “You’ll be meeting in the rec hall for the group therapy session in an hour. Have your characters prepared and ready.”

“Yes, professor,” Maca answered. Zulema’s eyes flashed and Maca smiled innocently. 

She didn’t respond, but before she walked out, she told Rizos “Save me a shot”, shot her a wink, and left the room.

* * *

Prison seemed to be a lot of waiting around for something — _ anything _ — to happen. 

Maca was bored. 

She laid on her bunk, arm behind her head and ankles crossed as she watched prisoners and guards walk back and forth in front of her “cell”. Rizos had her headphones in and her head buried in her case file as they waited to be called into the rec hall for a group session. 

By the time she heard Palacios’ voice in the common room calling for them to assemble, Maca practically leaped out of bed, grabbing Rizos’ attention. 

The rec hall seemed to be one of the only rooms that hadn’t been completely converted to complement the prison environment. It was cozy and inviting. The chairs and couches in the abandoned lounge were arranged in a circle and the prisoners were encouraged to take a seat wherever they felt comfortable.

For an hour, they ran through a simulated version of what could only be described as an anger management therapy session. It was entertaining, to say the least, to watch how everyone embodied their characters. As interesting and funny as it was, Maca made sure to take notes, and the entire time, she used her greatest skill: observation. She read body language, facial expressions, and even tried to memorize certain things that people said while answering questions. An hour passed in the blink of an eye, therapy was over and Maca wished it would have been longer. 

Next up, was lunch. 

According to Maca’s itinerary, she was to report to the chow hall after group therapy. There, she and a few other inmates stood behind the food guard, given hairnets, and told that they would be serving lunch. It was her “work assignment” for day one. Half of the guards were served first and then they were to oversee the prisoners’ lunch. 

Half an hour later, a sea of yellow uniforms formed a single line to receive their food. At the end of the line were Rizos, Saray, and Zulema. Rizos and Saray had nothing but jokes about Maca’s apron and new hair accessory.

“Forget them. The hairnet does it for me,  _ rubia _ ,” Zulema teased.

Maca smirked. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll just take an apple and a yogurt, thanks.”

Maca sat both of her requested items on her lunch tray and then dumped a spoonful of creamed spinach on it as well.

“That’s disgusting.”

Maca’s grin only widened. “It’s good for you. Enjoy.”

* * *

The rest of the day was spent doing mundane things. Now and again, a guard would come and take an inmate to be interrogated. Maca read and finished some homework assignments that were due the following week. She left her cell to study the dry-erase board that was left in the center of the common room and then to serve dinner. 

After dinner, their unit was called for the showers and by eight p.m., it was lights out.

Some time in the middle of the night, Maca jolted awake from a horrible nightmare filled with black SUVs and slit throats and prison gates slamming loudly only to find a shadowed figure slipping into the door of her cell. She craned her neck and strained her eyesight to see in the dark. 

It was Zulema. 

She walked closer to her bunk, finger pressed to her lips, signaling for Maca to keep quiet, climbed up the ladder to Maca’s bed, and slipped under the covers that the blonde held up for her. 

“I’m pretty sure this is against the rules,” whispered Maca.

“It’s a good thing I make the rules then, no?” Zulema responded. Maca made a tching noise. 

“If you don’t want me here, I can—.” Zulema sat up, pretending to leave.

Maca sat up quickly and tugged at her arm, whining, “No!” She looked over at Rizos to make sure she hadn’t woken her up.

Zulema grinned and laid back down beside her girlfriend, pulling her close.

“I had a bad dream.”

Zulema pulled Maca closer to her and nuzzled her neck. Maca turned around in Zulema’s arms until they were face to face and brought her hand up to trail down Zulema’s nose. The brunette chuckled. 

“What is your obsession with my face?”

Mama shrugged. “It’s beautiful. And soft, but expressive. Plus, you get these cute little puppy dog eyes whenever I do this.” Maca leaned forward and pressed her lips against Zulema’s. 

“I do not,” pouted Zulema. Maca giggled. 

“I’m glad two people didn’t come so that I can have you here. I sleep better when you’re around.”

“Me too.”

* * *

_ Saturday _

_ Experiment Day Two _

“I heard your girlfriend sneak in last night,” Rizos said, waggling her brows at Macarena. She sat on the bottom bunk, massage hand cream around her palms after having just come back from being “interrogated”.

Maca sighed. “I’m glad she did, I had the worst dream last night.”

“What about?”

Maca told Rizos about her dream. “You ever have that feeling of dread that gets stuck right in the middle of your chest. Like the dream is telling you that something bad is about to happen?”

“Sometimes,” Rizos admitted. “It’s just a dream, Maca. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

Maca shrugged and Rizos scoffed.

“What could happen when you have  _ el elfo del puto infierno _ as a girlfriend?”

That made Maca laugh. “That’s true.”

“Plus,” Rizos shrugged, sighing deeply, “it’s kind of hot having a secret romance sometimes, no?”

Maca flashed back to the line for the shower last night and the way Zulema brushed against her ass. And the way she slipped into Maca’s private shower stall, took the blonde’s hand, and slid it down her own wet skin. And how Maca tasted Zulema on her fingers while Zulema dropped to her knees to drink Maca’s nectar straight from the source.

Macarena didn’t respond. She didn’t have to. Rizos grinned, knowingly.

“Oye!” Saray appeared at their door, flopping down onto Rizos’ bunk, and tore open a pack of sunflower seeds. “What are we talking about?”

“Maca is beginning to resent her secret relationship.”

“Juicy,” Saray commented, cheek full of sunflower seeds.

“I am not!” Maca protested. “I just can’t wait for graduation. I want to be able to tell people I’m in a relationship.”

“You told the right people and that’s all that matters for now. Besides, the best part about a relationship is when you have that person all to yourself. Once everyone else knows, it’s just a recipe for destruction. Misery loves company. Some people will try to steal your happiness.” Saray told her.

“That’s true,” agreed Rizos.

“That’s what happened with us, yeah?” Saray asked Rizos. Rizos leaned over and tapped Saray’s nose with her fingertip.

“ _ Gitana _ , we ended because you were crazy.”

“We never ended, Estefanía, we just stopped.”

Rizos and Saray had a silent conversation with their eyes and Maca cleared her throat. 

“Back to my existential crisis here.”

“You’re not in a crisis,  _ rubia _ , Zulema loves you and you love her, so shut up and enjoy the ride.”

Maca’s eyes bulged.

“What?” 

Rizos stage-whispered to Saray, “They haven’t said the ‘L’ word yet.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I need a drink.”

“I’m in,” Rizos sat up in the bunk and pulled her bag from under the bunk, and unzipped it.

“I’m out,” Maca told them as she started towards the door.

“Aw, come on, Maca.”

“Yeah, come on, Maca.”

Maca left the room for a moment before poking her head back in, cheesing broadly. “Shots after dinner, though.”

“Ayyy,” Saray pointed to Maca, “that’s more like it!”


	25. Te Veo Pronto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// mentions of attempted sexual assault. murder.

“Have you seen Zulema?” Maca asked Rizos. 

The brunette looked up from the bunk where she and Saray were playing a game of Speed with the deck of cards she’d brought. “Not since lunch.”

Maca had been interrogated just after lunch and it was actually pretty fun, playing a criminal. She wasn’t in prison for anything too terrible. In fact, her only crime was embezzlement. Still, it was fun to watch the guards and pretend profilers squirm a little as they tried to deduce whether or not she was Prisoner X. 

“I’m bored.”

“Hoping to get in a quickie before dinner?” Saray asked, wiggling her eyebrows at Maca. 

“Shut up.”

“I still can’t believe you two are a thing,” admitted Saray. 

“Why’s that?”

Before she could respond, Saray’s phone rang and her brows furrowed. “Zule, _que paso_?” There were a few brief moments of silence before she shot up in bed. “What the fuck?” Saray exclaimed. 

She scrambled out of the bed, the phone still pressed to her ear, and hightailed it out of the room. Macarena and Rizos looked at one another, confused. In unison, they climbed out of their beds and headed towards their cell door. As they entered the rec corridor, Maca saw Yolanda running towards them. 

“Did you guys get the alert?”

Maca shook her head, asking, “What alert?”

“Campus-wide lockdown.”

“Lockdown?” Rizos asked. “For what? Someone with a gun?”

Yolanda shook her head. “There was a murder in one of the campus apartments.”

Maca’s eyes widened. “What? Who was killed?”

Yolanda shrugged. “We have no idea yet.”

Macarena saw Zulema and Saray a short distance away, heads together, talking quietly. Palacios joined them eventually and Macarena was surprised to see Zulema reach over and hug him briefly. Saray did the same while Zulema’s attention turned to her phone. She alternated between texting and glancing up at the conversation between Saray and Palacios. Macarena couldn’t help the dread that was building in her chest. She needed to turn the negative energy into a positive.

“We need to get these kids out of here,” Palacios suggested.

Zulema gave a negating shake of her head. “They’re safer here. If the perp’s still on campus, this is where they should be.”

“Exactly. In the meantime, it’s safe to say the experiment is over.” Saray commented. 

Zulema’s phone chimed in her hand and she pressed it against her ear, immediately. “Alta, _dime_ .” She listened for a few moments, nodding every now and again. “ _Y estas seguro_?”

“Yeah,” Alta said on the other end. “Same M.O. Throat slit ear to ear with a thin blade. Blunt force trauma to the head. Panties ripped off, but no sign of sexual assault.”

She looked around at the faces of the students. Some looked terrified. Others looked hurt. But Maca looked... determined. 

The blonde floated from person to person, asking them if they needed anything and if they were okay. She hugged a few and sat with others just talking and trying to keep up morale. 

The news hadn’t given much information about the murder itself, which was good a thing. For now, it kept the group from the inevitable grief that would overwhelm them once they realized that one of their peers was gone forever. As Alta prattled off pieces of information, Zulema listened as she thought of a plan to tell the students and faculty. 

“Zule, there’s two more things,” Alta said. 

“ _Qué es_?” 

“He left a note for you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah, I reactivated your CNI email. I sent an encrypted copy to you.”

Zulema made her way to the cell she and Saray had been sharing. She pulled her MacBook from her overnight bag and powered it up. 

“Same handwriting?” Zulema asked as she signed into her CNI email. It’d been a long time, but her password was still the same.

“Yep.”

_One new email: Altagracia Guerrero._

Zulema clicked on the unread message, and a pop-up image appeared on her screen. She slapped a hand across her mouth to muffle her gasp.

* * *

_Zulema,_

_Have you missed me? It doesn’t feel like it. You’ve forgotten about me, but I have a prescription for that ailment._

_I’ll just have to take away the thing that’s distracting you from finding me. How is sweet Macarena, by the way?_

_You know, I closed my eyes after my latest victim and pretended that it was Macarena’s blood dripping through my fingers._

_Te veo pronto_

* * *

Zulema’s blood ran cold.

“Zule are you okay?”

“You said there were two things.”

“There was no signs of sexual assault because he was interrupted.”

“By who?”

“A cop. Well, a cadet. Apparently she was friends with the victim. Took a series of blows to the head. Looks like he slammed her head into the wall repeatedly. She managed to call emergency services before passing out. She’s at Santa Cristina hospital.”

“Do we have a name?”

“Uh,” Zulema heard paper rustling in the background, “Cadet Nerea Rojas.”

“ _Joder_ ,” Zulema exhaled. 

“You know her?”

“Yeah. She’s my fiancée of my girlfriend’s best friend.”

“Jesus, Zule. I’m sorry.”

“Why wasn’t she informed yet?”

“Mm, as far as I can tell, Cadet Rojas’ emergency contact information hasn’t been updated since 2018,” replied Alta. “Her parents are the only two on the form to be called during an emergency.”

“Have they? Been informed, I mean.”

“I’m not sure but I’m on it.”

“Find out and call me back.”

“Damn, Zule. I said I’m on it. If you’re gonna give me orders again, you should be reinstated at the CNI.”

”No,” Zulema told her, “that life is over for me. It’s why we’re here to begin with. Why another student is dead.”

Silence. “We could use your brain, Zule. Think about it. I’ll call you back with an update on the parents.”

They hung up and Zulema sighed loudly. She rubbed at the tense muscles forming in her neck. Her eyes landed on the computer once again and a haunting shiver ran through her entire body. 

* * *

Within half an hour, the speculation on who had been murdered circulated rather quickly. The TV in the rec room had been on full blast, a constant rotation of local news channels as background noise. Zulema, Palacios, Saray and the other staff members gathered the entire building inside of the room. 

Zulema stood in the middle of the circle, hands in the pockets of her pants. 

“Okay, guys, it’s safe to say that the experiment has ended early due to today’s events. I’ve been informed of the victim’s name but we had to wait to release it until her family was informed.” Zulema pivoted her body, turning to catch everyone’s eyes as she spoke. “The victim was Teresa González. Some of you know her as Tere.”

A collective gasp went around the room and the hushed conversations began. 

Rizos sat in shock. Macarena was stunned. She remembered Tere from her first night at Cruz when Rizos had invited her out to see Saray DJ. She wrapped her arms around Rizos who started to sob uncontrollably. Standing to her feet, Maca pulled Rizos up and out of the room for maximum privacy. Saray made eye contact with Zulema, who nodded. They’d decided that Saray should be the one to tell Rizos about Nerea being in the hospital. She could comfort Rizos better than anyone else. Not to mention, Rizos would surely want to leave to go to the hospital and Saray would take her. 

“For those of you who didn’t know her, Tere is,” Zulema paused, “ _was_ a graduate student in her final year of her master’s program. She has a husband and two kids, a boy and a girl and there will be a donation collection circulating in the Law Library.”

Zulema gave them an empowered speech about sticking together in a time like this. She reminded them that there were grief counselors available to them via phone as well as the school’s online portal. 

“Once we have word that the campus has been cleared, you will all be allowed to leave here. We’ll have campus shuttles to take you guys back to the Criminal Justice building parking lot where your cars are. If you guys need anything, do not be afraid to reach out. This is a tough time for all of us. It’s important that we hold one another up in this difficult time.”

A loud sobbing wail echoed through the faux prison and Zulema’s eyes closed briefly. 

_Rizos_. 

She was going through something that would take a piece of her heart forever. Her good friend had been murdered and her fiancée was in the hospital. Zulema didn’t have to imagine how she felt. 

She knew. 

And she felt for Rizos. Deeply. It was no secret that Rizos was a party animal, but she was still a good person when it came down to it. And Zulema wished she could turn back time so that she never had to deal with this. 

_It’s my fault_ , Zulema thought, _if I never met Maca… never fell in love with her, I would have never taken my eye off of the goal. And Tere would still be alive._

And now he, whoever the fuck he was, wanted to go after Macarena now. Zulema couldn’t let that happen. Wouldn’t. If anything happened to Macarena, Zulema would die. 

So, she resolved right then and there that she would do whatever she had to to keep Macarena safe. 

By any means necessary.

She picked up her phone again, and text Altagracia.

_I’m in.  
_

_Really?_

_Yeah, I’ll join the team again._


	26. Sparring Partners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this sort of a serves as a “back door pilot” to ‘For The Crime of Love 2: Hearts In Handcuffs’.

_Friday, 13:00_

Tere’s funeral was heartbreaking. Macarena held Rizos closely as Rizos shed silent tears behind dark sunglasses. Zulema sat in the row behind Maca and Rizos with Saray by her side. She never did well in churches, always felt like God was judging her. The day of Tere’s funeral was no different. Zulema thought that maybe God was judging her today. Condemning her to watch as Tere’s family and friends sobbed uncontrollably at the open casket. Telling her that the little voice in the back of her head that said Tere’s blood was on her hands might actually be true. 

They lined up to say their final goodbyes to Tere and when it had been Zulema’s turn, she steeled her features, touched Tere’s white casket gently, and silently promised her that she wouldn’t stop until she found the man that Tere away from her beautiful family. 

As per Tere’s final wishes, there was a celebration of life at the park where she would take her children every weekend. There was a lake where her husband’s family had set up food and drinks. It wasn’t long before Saray turned the somber affair into a true celebration with a song. She started acapella and as her voice grew in strength, other people joined in. Eventually, guitars were brought out and Zulema watched as Tere’s friends and family became stronger, closer as they shared funny anecdotes and incredible stories about the woman who had made such an impact on their lives.

Zulema wondered if she would have this when she died. She wasn’t close to her family. She and her mother never saw eye-to-eye. She had Saray, sure, and Macarena.

 _Macarena_.

Zulema turned from her spot on a blanket in front of the gleaming lake. She found Macarena immediately. The blonde’s head swiveled as if Zulema’s gaze called to her and she looked curiously at the older woman. Her head tilted, brows knitted together. 

_Are you okay?_

Zulema gave her a small smile and hoped it came across as reassuring. In case it didn’t, she added a slight nod and then glanced to Maca’s right, nodded her head at Rizos.

_Is she okay?_

Maca made a face that said ‘ _not really_ ’, and gave a hopeful shrug of her shoulder as if to say ‘ _but she will be_ ’. 

Macarena had been with Rizos for the last week. She shuffled back and forth between the hospital and Rizos’ apartment, bringing the brunette clothes and food. Macarena had barely seen Zulema; she’d updated Zulema on Nerea’s condition via texts. There was a significant amount of swelling in Nerea’s brain due to the number of times her head had been slammed into the wall. On day two of her hospital stay, she had seized violently and they decided it was best to put her into a medically induced coma until the swelling went down. Rizos was beside herself. She refused to leave Nerea’s side, so Macarena did what she could to bring a little comfort to her best friend.

Zulema understood, of course. Truth be told, it was probably for the best. The more time that Macarena spent away meant that Zulema had more time to dive back into the case that had become the very bane of her existence. The time apart was equal parts welcomed and filled with anxiety. When Macarena was at the hospital with Rizos, she felt safer knowing that she was at least protected by the guards planted outside of Nerea’s room. But when Macarena was elsewhere: running errands, going home, or to Rizos’ to shower and sleep, Zulema was filled with a sense of dread that something would happen to her.

She needed to finish this, once and for all, before anyone else she loved got hurt.

* * *

_Centro Nacional de Inteligencia Headquarters, Saturday, 8:30_

Zulema was stopped at the guard gate by the same security guard that always worked the morning shift at the intelligence agency. 

“Inspectora Zahir! Zule, is that really you? Are you back?”

“Special reinstatement for a little while,” Zulema handed over her license to be scanned. The guard, Goya as she was called, swiped the ID and then held out an iPad for Zulema. 

“We heard about what happened on campus. We’re all really sorry, Zule.”

“Thanks, Goya.” She pressed her thumb onto the scanner and the iPad beeped. To the right of her thumbprint, the screen produced her old agency photograph and badge number, but there was an update to her profile. Where ‘Inspectora’ was once listed, there was a new title: First Year Agent’. Zulema smirked. 

_Fucking Altagracia_. 

“Take this to Agent Ros in receiving and she’ll print out your new credentials.” Goya handed Zulema her license and temporary visitor’s pass. “Glad to have you back, Inspectora.”

Zulema nodded. “Glad to be back.”

 _I just wish it were under different circumstances_. Zulema slipped her sunglasses back over her face and drove through the opened gates and towards the main compound of the CNI campus. 

Once inside, she headed to receiving and was greeted by a warm face. Agent Laura Ros, whom Zulema nicknamed Flaca in her head, printed out Zulema’s newest credentials. She was handed her ID badge and her shield after re-registering the handguns that were strapped on either side of her in a vest holster. 

There she was instructed to meet Agent Guerrero in the bullpen of Wing A. Nothing in the building had changed and it was like walking through a time capsule. The last time she’d walked through the lobby of the CNI was the day she told her boss that she was resigning. Not even a week after Hanbal’s death. Back then, she’d been alternating her time between guest lecturing at Madrid University and working on active cases. 

As she pushed open the glass doors to the bullpen of Wing A, Zulema walked past a few desks that reminded her a police precinct and towards a set of stairs that led to the private offices. She stopped out front of the one marked Supervisory Agent Guerrero. Knocking, she was permitted entrance and when she opened the door, Altagracia was sitting at her desk scribbling her signature on something. She looked up and grinned. 

“Zulema Zahir, in the flesh.” Altagracia sat back, grinning cheekily. 

“First Year Agent? Really?”

“I thought you might like that.” She leaned forward at her computer and typed a few things into the system. “There. You are officially a Supervisory Agent Zahir once again.”

“Thank you ever so much.”

Altagracia stood from her desk and rounded it, pulling Zulema into a tight embrace. They were always great friends when Zulema had worked for the intelligence unit despite Zulema technically being Alta’s boss. Really, she was more like Zulema’s second in command. Alta was incredibly brilliant and it was one thing that Zulema loved, it was a mind that was just as amazing as her own. 

“Catch me up. Where are we with this case?”

“I have four of my best agents going over the case files and evidence that you had sent over. So far, I have them memorizing your notes backwards and forwards. Every small detail counts.”

“Vale.”

“Let me introduce you to my team and then I’ll have you jump right in.”

Altagracia led Zulema out of the office and back down the stairs to the hive of desks. She stood in the middle of the room and called for everyone’s attention. 

“Everyone, I’d like you to welcome back Agent—.”

“Zulema Zahir. Holy shit!” A young woman interrupted. She stood from her desk and held her hand out for Zulema, shaking it frantically. “I’m Vivi Quintanilla. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Zulema gave her a once over. “You’re twelve.” 

Alta stifled a smirk. “Vivi is twenty-one. She has an IQ of 138 and an eidetic memory.”

Zulema looked impressed. “ _Mucho gusto_.”

“This is Agent Cepo Castro.” Alta watched as Cepo and Zulema shook hands. “Agent Castro is a geography and weapons tactics expert. Give him any city and any year and he can tell you exactly how many people were living there.”

Zulema crossed her arms. “Egypt, 2017.”

“Ninety-four million, seven-hundred-and-ninety-eight thousand, eight-hundred-and-twenty seven. But the census was taken on April 18th, so that didn’t include the estimated two point five million babies born after that date.”

Zulema was beyond impressed. Cepo was clearly on the autism spectrum. She could tell by the way his eyes never really met hers and his fixation on numbers and geography. And she decided that she already liked him. 

Next was Agent Mónica Ramala. She was more poised than the rest of the team. She seemed to size Zulema up, which made the brunette smirk. Mónica specialized in everything and had come from a background in a special weapons and tactics team.

“You said four members,” Zulema said to Altagracia. 

“ _Venga_ ,” Alta commanded and Zulema followed her out of the bullpen and down a long corridor, conference rooms gracing each side. They stopped in front of a door that was secured with a keycode that Alta punched into the pin pad on the door. A clicking sound alerted them that the door was unlocked and Altagracia pushed it open, holding it for Zulema. 

The room was dark besides the blue lights from the spider web of large computer screens. The U-shaped desk held two phones, a series of keyboards that were clearly designed for different purposes and a few fun-looking plushies scattered about. Sitting at a bright pink gaming chair was—.

“Agent Triana Azcoitia, our resident techie,” announced Altagracia. 

The chair spun around and another young woman, dressed in a hot pink top and tight purple miniskirt smiled around the lollipop in her mouth at the intruders. 

“ _Joder_ , Zulema Zahir!” She hopped up and crossed the space between them and instead of shaking Zulema’s hand, she threw her arms around Zulema’s neck and squeezed her tightly. Zulema was taken aback, but before she could respond, Triana was prancing back to chair and tapping furiously at the keyboard in front of her. 

“Is she good?”

Alta nodded at the screens. “You tell me.”

“Zulema Zahir, born 1973, married once, widowed once. Owns a black Audi Q7 and a home in Madrid.”

“That’s public information. What else do you have?”

Alta grinned. “Careful what you ask for.”

“Currently dating Macarena Ferreiro, a student at Madrid University.”

 _What the fuck_?

Zulema’s eyes widened. She walked towards the desk and leaned over Tirana’s shoulder, one hand resting on her desk and the other on the back of her chair. “How the hell did you—?”

“Your phone’s GPS. Not to mention your phone and computer’s IP addresses have connected to the WiFi at her address regularly for the past few months. Do you want to see the texts I’ve been able to retrieve?”

“Triana, down girl.” Alta joked. “She’s like an addict. Once you let her hack something tiny like a cell-phone it snowballs into hacking the bank accounts of famous men.”

“That was one time! I just wanted to see what Jeff Bezos was left with after his divorce.”

Zulema chuckled at that. She reached into the candy jar on Triana’s desk and snagged the last lollipop inside.

“Hey!”

“They’re bad for your teeth. I’m doing you a favor.” She threw Triana a wink and then headed back to the exit where Altagracia was waiting for her. 

Once they left and the door shut soundly behind them, Altagracia looked at Zulema seriously and asked, “So? What do you think?”

Zulema smiled. “I think I can do something with them.” She nudged her shoulder with Altagracia’s. “You put together a good time. I’m proud of you.”

* * *

_Sunday, 15:11_

Maca was sparring in the ring when Zulema arrived at the boxing gym. She looked determined. Focused. Zulema watched for a few moments as Macarena ducked her opponent’s attack and pivoted to the right while attacking with a left jab to their ribs. They seemed to be having a good time, Maca’s opponent laughed at something Maca said and they danced apart before coming back together in a series of impressive combinations. A recorded bell sounded somewhere and Zulema watched as they tapped gloves and both turned to exit the ring. Maca spotted Zulema and her surprise was evident. She pulled off her gloves, spit out her mouthguard.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

 _And it can’t wait?_ Maca wanted to ask. But she realized that if Zulema had come all of this way to the gym, then whatever she had to say must be important. So she climbed out of the ring and started the only quiet corner in the gym just beside the punching bag. 

“So, what’s up?” Maca asked. 

“I’ve been reinstated at the CNI.”

Macarena looked confused. “Okay, what does that mean exactly?”

“I’ll still be teaching at MU but I’ll be splitting my time between there and the intelligence bureau. I’m gonna be really busy these next few months and I just wanted you to know.”

“Will you have to travel?”

“Maybe, but not often.” Zulema admitted. Macarena nodded and poked a finger against the punching bag. 

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of annoyed that you didn’t talk to me about it first.”

“It’s something I have to do. Tere died. Nerea is in a coma.”

“Exactly!” Macarena said. “Tere is _dead_. Nerea is lying in a hospital bed and the doctors are telling Rizos that they don’t know what kind of quality of life she’ll have if she does wake up once they take her out of the coma! Zulema, you’re throwing yourself into the lion’s den by becoming an agent again. You don’t have to be everyone’s savior.”

Zulema sighed. “You’re picking a fight.”

“No, I’m reacting to the absolute bullshit that’s coming out of your mouth right now.” Macarena was exhausted. She hasn’t slept properly in a week. Someone she’d known died. She missed Zulema like crazy. Not to mention, Maca had come to the gym to channel the negative emotions bubbling inside of her into something positive, but here Zulema was telling her that they would be seeing even _less_ of one another for the next few months. It was all just too much.

Zulema blinked. “I didn’t come here to ask your permission. I just wanted you to know what was going on.”

“ _Vale_. Now I know.” Macarena shook her head, clearly frustrated. “Are we done with this conversation? I still have more training to do.”

Zulema paused. Mouth opened and closed, Nothing came out. So, she just nodded. Maca muttered a sarcastic, “Excellent,” and turned to storm off.

Zulema sighed again and left the gym more frustrated than she entered. 

Hopefully, one day soon, Macarena would see that she was doing this for her. To protect her. 

  
  



	27. I love you

_ Sunday, Maca’s apartment, 17:05 _

It had taken three hours for them to make up. Macarena finished her training workout and headed home to shower. Zulema was sitting on her couch when she arrived. Maca didn’t speak. She dropped her gym back by the door and tossed her keys on the coffee table. The blonde took longer in the shower than absolutely necessary and when she finished, she kept the bathroom closed as she detangled her hair. She went through her skin routine and finally finished by brushing her teeth. When she exited the bathroom, Zulema was sitting on the bed, legs crossed Native-style. Maca moved around the room, silently dressing into some comfortable clothes to cook dinner.

Once she was in a pair of gray shorts and an oversized flannel, Maca started towards the bedroom door. Zulema climbed off of the bed and met Maca at the door, hand encircling her wrist and pulling her back into the room.

“Stop ignoring me,” Zulema murmured. She pulled Maca’s body flush against her own, holding her tightly around the waist. Maca still refused to meet Zulema’s eyes, despite her traitorous body responding to Zulema’s touch. “I’m trying to apologize, and I don't do that often.”

Maca finally looked at Zulema.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you before I made my decision, but I need you to understand that it was my decision to make.”

Fucking Zulema.  _ How could she be a badass, take no shit elfo del puto infierno, but also possess the ability to make Macarena’s anger melt away in a matter of seconds? _

“I’m sorry I snapped at you. I understand that but it’s frustrating that everything just seems to be changing so quickly. I don’t do well with change.”

“I know. You have to know that I’m going to make time for you. For now, I just need to make sure no one else gets hurt. Especially you.” 

Maca nodded. She readjusted the chain around Zulema’s neck so that the small circle was centered. Zulema’s hands slipped under the half-buttoned shirt, fingertips meeting the warm skin of her back. Maca pressed herself further against Zulema, her right hand shifting upward against the brunette’s neck. 

“Squeeze,” commanded Zulema.

_ Oh _ . 

Maca thumb and pointer finger pressed firmly on the sides of Zulema’s neck. Zulema exhaled audibly. 

“Show me how frustrated you are and I’ll show you sorry I am.”

_ Oh god _ . 

In the blink of an eye, Zulema was on the bed and Maca was on top of her, kissing Zulem fervently. And moments after that, their clothes lay discarded in a pile on the floor. Right hand remained around Zulema’s neck and Maca used her left to fingerfuck Zulema within an inch of her life. And when she felt like the older woman had learned her lesson, she kissed her softly and was promptly flipped onto her back. Zulema worshipped her body from head to toe and when Maca came, the only thing she could think was--.

_ Fuck, I love you. _

* * *

_ Monday, Centro Nacional de Inteligencia Headquarters, 11:00 _

Classes still hadn’t resumed out of respect for Tere’s death. They wouldn’t resume until the following week. But Zulema found that she didn’t mind as much as she thought she would. Working with the CNI again felt oddly like coming home for Zulema. The rag-tag team of agents that she’d come to know, and begrudgingly adore, were fucking brilliant in what they did. Plus, Zulema found that she’d missed the ins and outs of being an agent despite the reason that she’d been forced to return. She loved being a professor, but when she could use what she was teaching her students in her real life, she felt useful… almost powerful. 

Until Monday when her world came crashing down once more.

She was sitting on the lip of Altagracia’s desk talking when Cepo ran into Altagracia’s office, breathless. The two brunettes turned to the door and Alta looked at him questioningly. By the look on his face, his eyes darting to her, Zulema knew it was about their case. 

She stood to her full height, suddenly no-nonsense, and inquired, “What do you have?”

“Receiving just received an envelope from a bike courier addressed to you,  _ inspectora _ . We think he’s made contact.” He disappeared from the door, Zulema and Altagracia hot on his trail. 

The agent who’d created her new credentials, Flaca, was standing at Cepo’s desk, gloved hands holding the envelope.

“I want that bike courier stopped at the front gate before he gets any further!” Altagracia shouted to the quiet bullpen. Suddenly, there were agents picking up their phones, attempting to call the guard gate. Two more jumped up from their desks and hurried through the glass doors trying to catch the courier on foot. 

As everyone moved about her in quick motions, Zulema’s eyes zeroed in on the envelope. She nodded at Flaca. “Open it.”

Flaca did as she was told, carefully pulling at the perforated opening. Another agent appeared at Flaca’s side with a large evidence bag where she dropped the envelope after pulling out its contents. There was a stack of glossy photographs and a note on top.

_ Zulema, _

_ Rejoining your team to hunt me down again excites me in ways you wouldn’t believe. Perhaps you  _ _ haven’t _ _ forgotten about me. Still, I’ll keep my sights set on your beloved blonde for now. Staying away from her might just prevent her spontaneous euthanization.  _

_ Te veo pronto _

Most of the surveillance photos were of Macarena doing everyday things. There was one of her leaving the boxing gym. Another of her at their favorite takeout place. A couple of her on campus with Rizos. In all of them, her face was X-ed out in a red marker. The final one was a shot made through the open window of Maca’s apartment. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed, hand covering her own breast. Zulema could be seen just in shot, the billowing curtains shielding her own naked body. She was looking up at Maca’s face, and no doubt, fingerfucking Macarena into

Altagracia, who had been looking over Zulema’s shoulder, cursed under her breath. She turned back to the bullpen and shouted, “Where the fuck is that courier?”

Zulema shook her head, still staring at the photos splayed before them, her private life on full display. “It’s no use. The courier won’t be any help. This guy is too smart for that.”

Altagracia placed a reassuring hand on Zulema’s arm. “We’re gonna get this motherfucker, Zule.”

For the first time in her entire career as a criminal psychologist, Zulema felt helpless. She heard stories about inspectors who had “the one that got away”. She never thought it’d happen to her, and she definitely never imagined it would come at such a high cost: her happiness.

* * *

_ Monday, Maca’s apartment, 18:10 _

Macarena was curled up on the couch, studying for finals when she heard her apartment door open and close. Zulema appeared and Maca’s face lit up, dimples exposed. 

“Hi,  _ cari _ .” 

Zulema paused in her step, coming to stand awkwardly between the couch and the coffee table. “Hey.”

Maca’s eyes squinted and her head tilted and Zulema realized that was what she did when she was trying to read a situation. The only difference between them was that Maca could read micro-expressions better than any professional she knew. 

“Why do you look like someone killed Maisa?”

_ Because that’s what it feels like _ , Zulema thought.

“Because we have to talk and I don’t know how to start.”

Maca closed her book and sat up on the couch, patting the cushion beside her. “The beginning.”

Zulema sat down, leaving ample room between them, and Macarena instantly noticed. She glanced down and back up to Zulema’s face, scanning it for any clue of what was to come.

“Maca, you know how much I care about you,” Zulema began.

A look crossed Macarena’s face. It was as if she understood what Zulema would say before she said it. As if she recognized the phrase and where it would go. 

“No,” she said. She shook her head and stood from the couch. 

“Maca,” Zulema tried again.

_ No. _

Really there was nowhere for the blonde to go. This was her apartment. So, Maca made her way to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of wine from its rack, yanking the cork out. Zulema followed behind her. 

“Maca, I’ve seen what he’s capable of. I saw Hanbal’s lifeless body, bloodied and bruised with his throat slit. I can’t see the same thing happen to you. I won’t put you in any danger. If anything happened to you, I would never be able to forgive myself.”

“You’re not putting me in any danger! This has nothing to do with me!” Maca’s face was flushed and she could feel her ears burning. 

_ But it does, conejita. It does. He wants to hurt you _ , Zulema thought. 

“But it has everything to do with me! I don’t know how and I don’t know why! What I do know is that you are an enormous part of my life! Just like Hanbal was and this asshole,  _ whoever he is _ , will use you to get to me and I cannot have that on my conscience.”

“So… what?” Maca gestured wildly with her hands. “What? You think breaking up with me is going to stop a psychopath?”

“Of course not. That’s why there will be two agents stationed outside your apartment.”

“I don’t want bodyguards, Zulema! I want you!” Macarena was yelling now. 

Zulema felt the sharp pain of her heart as it broke inside of her chest. 

“I can’t be here.”

“Why not?” 

“Because I just—,” Zulema took a brief moment to compose herself, eyes shutting as she exhaled deeply, “I can’t, but I still need to know you’re protected.”

“Zulema, why are you doing this?!” Maca shouted, tears falling. 

“Because I love you!” Zulema yelled back. There she said it. The thing they’d both been feeling for the past few months. It was out there now. “I love you, Maca, and I need you to be safe! I need you to be _here_.  _ Alive _ !”

A tear slipped down her left cheek, trailing down the perfectly tattooed line on her face before Zulema quickly wiped it away. Maca remembered Zulema’s confession all those months ago:

_ “I don’t cry,” Zulema explained. “Well, not anymore.” _

_ “Ever?” _

Maca reached out for Zulema, but the older woman took a step back, hands raised in surrender. “What happens to you, happens to me. I need to protect you.” Zule told her. 

_ If you die, I die _ . 

“Zulema, don’t do this.”

Zulema took a hesitant step forward as if deciding if she should touch Maca. Then, she paused, as if she knew that pulling Maca into her arms would reverse her decision and her resolve would weaken. So, she slipped her hands into her pockets and took another step, closing the distance between them until their bodies were mere centimeters apart. She rested her forehead against Macarena’s and closed her eyes. Maca couldn’t stop the gasping sob that she let out, her body shuddering with the effects of it. 

“Maca,” Zulema whispered. She kissed Maca’s cheek. Then the other. Either of her eyelids. Her nose. 

And finally, her forehead. 

Then she turned and left the kitchen. Down the hall, her footsteps echoed loud in Maca’s ears. 

And when she heard the front door closed, Maca picked up the wine bottle and threw it across the room, watching as it shattered against the refrigerator, red wine dripping down the appliance. Maca slid down the kitchen counter until she was sitting on the floor, pulled her knees to her chest, and rested her cheek against her knees. 

Then she realized…

She didn’t get a chance to say—.

“I love you too,” Maca murmured to her empty apartment. 

* * *

She didn’t see Maca at the coffee shop the following Monday. 

Nor was Macarena in class. 

Zulema must have checked her watch nearly six times during the course of her lecture. It was her first class after Tere’s death and the first time she’d been in her element while her mind and heart were somewhere else entirely. She understood, but just because Macarena wanted to avoid Zulema, didn’t mean she could skip class. Her education was important and finals were less than a week away. They’d already lost so much time with the passing of Tere and everything that came with that. Zulema truly believed Macarena had a promising future and she didn’t want her to squander it because they weren’t together. Even though, in Zulema’s heart, they would always be together. She didn’t want to let Macarena go. But she’d rather Macarena hate her and be alive than love her and die at the hands of a heartless monster. 

After class, she sat in her office before her next lecture, typing up an email to Maca because she was almost certain that the blonde would not answer her phone call or text message. Not that she’d tried. Zulema knew that Macarena needed time. And she wouldn’t be selfish enough to expect Macarena to be ready and willing to at least have a professional relationship with Zulema, no matter how badly the brunette wanted to see her. It took her much longer than expected to write the email. She’d typed and deleted so many messages, even contemplating telling Maca why she’d broken things off, but she just couldn’t. She didn’t want Macarena to live in fear. So, for now, she’d keep receiving hourly updates from the two agents that were parked across the street from Macarena’s apartment. 

Not far away, Maca was in bed and had finished typing up her final paper for one of her classes when her computer chimed. The notification at the top of the screen told her that she’d just received a new email from Dr. Zulema Zahir. Her heart started to race and she had to wipe the sweat from her hands onto the sweatpants that she was wearing. She scrolled up and clicked on it, and her screen was suddenly illuminated with a concise message from her girlfriend. 

_ Ex _ -girlfriend.

Maca read through Zulema’s email. 

Once. 

Twice. 

_ Macarena,  _

_ I understand your resistance to attending my course, but the final exam is quickly approaching and I would prefer it if you were here in order to be fully prepared for it. Please note in your syllabus that your attendance in my class is required, not optional _ , Zulema had written. 

Maca slammed her computer shut, pushed it to the edge of her bed, and pulled the duvet back over her head.

She hated this. 

An involuntary tear slipped down her cheek. She hadn’t cried all week. Not since her breakdown in the kitchen just after Zulema broke up with her. She’d done so well. 

One stupid email from Zulema and she was a wreck again. 

Maca felt so alone. 


	28. I’m In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two more chapters left. 🥺

Maca was late to class the following Monday. She ambled into the room using the back door, letting it slam behind her, much like it did on her first day of Zulema’s lecture. A few heads turned to see who interrupted while the others kept their faces focused on the paperwork before them. 

_ Final exam _ . 

Hoodie pulled onto her head, Macarena slipped into a chair in the back row. Zulema handed an exam booklet to the person in the front row and jutted her chin towards the back. It was passed back to Maca who took out her writing utensils and immediately got to work. She knew the material, but she was distracted by the fact that she could feel Zulema’s eyes burning holes into the top of her head. At one point, she looked up to check the time, only for her eyes to briefly connect with Zulema’s. 

It broke them both. 

Zulema immediately felt the urge to walk up the lecture hall stairs and crouch down beside Maca’s chair and whisper that she wants her back. Maca felt too many things at once. She wanted to scream and cry and throw shit because the entire situation just wasn’t fucking fair!

Instead, she pulled her hoodie further up on her head, hunched further towards the desk and silently willed away tears that dropped on against her exam anyway. 

Still, she was able to finish her exam on time. Zulema walked around and collected everyone’s exams one by one, dismissing them as she did so. She purposely left Macarena for last.

“You were late,” observed Zulema. 

“Last class of the year so it won’t happen again.”

“That’s not wh—.” Zulema sighed. “Will you need extra time to finish your ex—.”

“That would mean you’d be giving me special treatment,” Maca interrupted, “and that was against the rules.”

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Zulema looked around to be sure her class was actually empty before continuing, ”the rules. We’re  _ way _ past that now.”

Maca stared straight forward. 

“No, Dr. Zahir. I’ll accept whatever grade I deserve.” Maca was confident that she would pass, but Zulema didn’t need to know that. 

“ _ Vale _ ,” Zulema said, sliding the exam off of the desk, Zulema placed it on top of the others in her arm, but remained where she was. She didn’t say anything and neither did Macarena. It was a power move, really, but Maca didn’t realize it until it was too late. She finally tore her eyes away from the smartboard and looked up at Zulema questioningly. 

_ I love you, _ Zulema’s eyes said. 

_ Then don’t do this _ , Maca’s replied, brows knitting pleadingly. 

Zulema reached out and ran a reassuring finger down Macarena’s cheek. The blonde did her best not to lean into the touch. She exhaled Zulema’s name.

Someone cleared their voice and Zulema snatched her hand away from Macarena’s face. They both looked to the door only to find Rizos standing there, laptop in hand. 

“Maca? You coming to the hospital with me?”

Maca gathered her backpack. “I have to go. They’re pulling Nerea out of her coma today. I have to be there for Rizos.”

Zulema finally stepped aside, no longer blocking Macarena from leaving. She watched as Maca walked down the stairs and met Rizos at the door. Zulema wanted to go after her. To tell her about the idea that she’d had earlier this morning. 

To tell Maca not to give up on her just yet.

But Maca wasn’t in the right mind space to hear her out just yet. It felt like all Maca knew at that moment was that Zulema was the bad guy.

* * *

Finals flew by, and before Macarena knew it, it was Friday when she realized that things seemed to be getting back to normal. 

She and Rizos had just finished dress shopping for the commencement dinner and graduation day and were sitting down for a quick coffee, and a light lunch for Rizos, before their hair appointments when Rizos sighed heavily. 

“You’ve been having a really good week and I don’t want to bring your mood down, but I have something for you. It’s from Zulema.”

Maca took a sip of her water and nodded slowly. “Okay. What is it?”

Rizos reached into her bag and pulled out two envelopes, one sealed and one unsealed. One had her name on it and its flap was tucked inside. The other was stamped with a black ‘Z’ wax seal and addressed to the Centro Nacional de Inteligencia. 

Zulema had written her a letter of recommendation; surely, one that glowed as bright as Maca’s future. 

“I didn’t read the other one,” Rizos assured her, “but if it’s what I think it is, maybe you should hear her out.”

Maca looked up at her friend who sat across from her with a sincere look on her face. “She has a different way of showing her love. Remember what I told you about Zulema.”

_ “Maca,” Rizos said sincerely as she reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand, “she likes you too. Zulema is just--.” _

_ “Enigmatic?” _

_ “Broken.” _

Maca nodded again. “I remember, but what am I supposed to do if she’s not willing to listen to me?”

“Make her.”

“I don’t know, Rizos. It just shouldn’t be this hard. She’s so convinced that she’s protecting me, but really she’s just pushing me away.”

“I don’t know. It didn’t look like she was pushing you away on Monday.” Rizos said. 

Maca heard her but didn’t respond. Rizos was right but Macarena had to figure out what  _ she _ wanted now.  _ Besides _ Zulema. It was like the brunette said, she had a bright future and would have her pick of career choices after graduation. 

As their coffees were placed on the table for them, Maca opened the letter for her and inhaled its contents. 

_ Maca, _

_ Part of me feels like I should apologize, but the other half of me is saying I should never be sorry for doing what I have to in order to keep you alive. You can act like you hate me or be completely indifferent towards me, but I know what you feel because I feel the same. Your life has become just as important as my own and I’ll protect them at any cost. You’ve made my house feel like a home again, and that’s something I haven’t had in so long. For that, I thank you. _

_ Saray and I have come up with a plan to catch this monster once and for all. It’ll be risky, and we’ll need the help of brilliant profilers, psychologists, and agents. I hope you’ll be one of them. If you’re in, let me know at the commencement dinner by shaking my hand. _

_ I love you, _

_ Zulema _

Maca pressed her thumb into the innermost corner of her eyes to wipe away the tears before they started to fall. Rizos didn’t pry.

“You really love her, no?” Rizos asked.

“Of course, I do.”

“Well, then use that fucking boxing training and keep fighting.”

For the first time in a week, Maca smiled a genuine smile.

And hope blossomed in her chest. 

* * *

_ Real Jardín Botánico de Madrid, Friday, 19:30  _

Hours of stuffing and fluffing later, Macarena and Rizos were on their way to the dinner held in the students’ honor to celebrate the end of their schooling. Maca couldn’t believe it. She had butterflies in her stomach but she felt stunning in the black and white, floor-length Karigam dress with its high split. Rizos had offset Maca’s dress by wearing an all-white goddess dress with a plunging neckline and matching high split. While Maca had her hair down, swept to the side, Rizos’ hair had been straightened and slicked back into an elegant chignon in order to give the dress (and her statuesque neck) the attention it deserved. 

Neither could believe how far they’d come in the past few months, but they were happy that they would be ending their journey the same way they started: together.

Upon arrival at the venue, a lush botanical garden, the girls and a few other guests were ushered over a small, lover’s bridge towards a massive clearing. There was a set-up of circular tables, enough to seat the entire graduating class as well as the lecturers and administration staff and a small bar off to their right. The tablecloths and subsequent decorations were Madrid University colors and there was even a temporary stage set up with a podium and microphone that held the MU crest on the front. A live quartet played soft music under the twinkling fairy lights.

Maca took in the sights, admiring the beauty of the atmosphere. The irony that she was celebrating her future working on grim assignments in such a stunning place was not lost upon her.

“Find our tables, I’ll be right back,” Rizos said. Maca nodded and Rizos was off.

Somehow, Rizos had zeroed in on the bar where Zulema stood, waiting for her whiskey neat. 

“So, I’ll finally be out of your hair,” Rizos greeted her. Zulema looked up to find a smirking Rizos. She chuckled and accepted her drink from the bartender. Reaching into the breast pocket of her tailored suit, Zule pulled out a few bills and slipped them into the tip jar. 

“Thank god, I go through a box of hair dye a week because of you.”

“You don’t have to admit that you’re going to miss me, Zulema. I already know it.”

“Oh so much. I don’t know how I’ll go on without you, Kabila,” Zulema joked. 

Rizos ordered two glasses of Riesling and as she opened her clutch purse to fish out a few bills for the bartender’s tip, Zulema stopped her. She put a couple more in the jar for Rizos and then turned to survey the scene. Just as she always did, Zulema saw Macarena floated in and out of the crowd, hugging her friends and saying hi to others. She’d become a real social butterfly under Rizos’ watch and Zulema liked seeing her so happy. 

“She’s not sleeping or eating, Zulema,” Rizos said when she saw who Zulema was gazing at.

Zulema shook her head. She was heartbroken to hear this. She gathered her phone and drink and as she walked past Rizos, she squeezed the younger woman’s shoulder.

“Neither am I, Rizos.”

* * *

“Hi.”

The voice coming from behind her made Maca’s lashes flutter and she physically had to stop herself from tearing up. She excused herself from the conversation with Professor Palacios and turned to face the familiar brunette. 

“Hi, Dr. Zahir.”

“Maca,” Zulema sighed, exasperated by her tone. 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to call you,” the blonde huffed, looking around to make sure she hadn’t brought attention to their conversation.

Zulema took a step forward and stopped herself from reaching out to touch Macarena by shoving her hand into the pocket of her pants. “Zulema. You can call me Zulema. Or Zule. Or—.”

_ Cari _ . 

“I don’t think that would be appropriate.”

“Please understand I’m trying to protect you.”

“I understand.” She meant it, but it still hurt that she had to let go of something that had made her so happy for the last few months. They had both been looking forward to being able to bring their relationship to light once Macarena graduated and now all of that was just…  _ ruined _ . Maca turned to look for Rizos in the crowd before stopping in her tracks. She turned back to Zulema. “Thank you for your letter of recommendation.”

“Of course.”

“It was a pleasure learning from you,  _ profesora _ .” Maca had to get away from Zulema. She held her hand out to Zulema. Zulema looked surprised for a moment, but she quickly gathered herself to take Maca’s hand in her own. “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

Macarena found herself at the table of those graduating with honors in her field. And it was just her luck that she found herself at the same table with the professors in the same field. Just across from her was Zulema Zahir. Macarena could just hear the universe laughing at her. Luckily she was distracted from thinking too much about how absolutely  _ edible _ Zulema looked in her black suit, hair slicked back into a simple ponytail at the crown of her head when Headmistress Miranda Aguirre arrived at her assigned seat at Maca’s table with her date in tow. He was a tall bald man, with a deep, gravelly voice and a charming personality and Miranda made it a point to introduce him with his title of doctor. 

Maca could tell by the way he kept his hands in his pockets while Miranda draped herself against his arm that she was more into the relationship than he was. It wouldn’t last long, Maca deduced, but that was none of her business. She realized that she was doing what Zulema used to do before they got to know one another: she was profiling people. She shot a glance around the table, watching briefly as Zulema did the squinting thing that she did when she was trying to figure someone out. When she returned her gaze to the gentleman, he was looking directly at her. He gave her a smile that was meant to be warm and inviting, but it made Maca feel… uneasy.

Dinner was served. It looked incredible, but Maca just couldn’t bring herself to try it. She pushed the grilled asparagus over on her plate before setting her fork down and picking up her water goblet. Even amidst the loud conversations and lively music, Zulema cleared her throat and Maca  _ still _ heard it. Her eyes flickered up to look at the brunette. 

_ Eat _ , she mouthed at Macarena. She cut into her own asparagus and placed it into her mouth and Maca rolled her eyes but followed suit. 

Maca told herself that she was only doing it because she was hungry, not to appease Zulema. Her brows rose as if to ask “ _ Satisfied _ ?” 

And there it was. 

That  _ fucking _ smirk that always made Macarena weak in the knees. 

Just as she was about to roll her eyes again, Professor Palacios tapped Miranda on the shoulder and nodded towards the stage. She excused herself from the table and the men stood at the same time she did, ever the gentlemen. Her date, Maca can’t remember his name now, pulled his phone out of his suit jacket, and as Miranda got onto the stage and addressed the crowd, he continued typing away. It wasn’t until she finished her speech, wishing the graduate students luck on their future endeavors and the crowd stood to their feet, that he even bothered to show interest. He stood as well, clapping as if he’d listened to anything she said. Maca didn’t know why but she was annoyed with him. 

It didn’t help that even when Miranda returned to the table, he continued to chat with everyone else, paying particular attention to Zulema when she spoke up. 

Not that Maca could blame him. She was gorgeous and ridiculously learned; everything she said enchanted the table as she gracefully toed the line between charismatic professional and provocative humor. Carlos, as Miranda called him, challenged some of Zulema’s insights but she was always well-prepared with a witty retort and a lesson. He seemed impressed with her, while only Macarena could tell that Zulema was annoyed. It was the way her cheek twitched whenever Carlos questioned her and the tapping of her fingertip against the body of her whiskey tumbler. He seemed to know his limits with her and if Macarena didn’t know any better, she’d think they’d met before. 

By the time dinner and drinks had turned into dancing, Macarena had met back up with Rizos and forgot all about him as her best friend pulled her onto the dance floor and they danced the night away.


	29. Celebrations and Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter left.

_ Graduation Day _

Fucking graduation day. Ever since she was a little girl, she knew she would be successful. Her family always was. They supported one another and they worked hard. At the end of the day, however, they loved each other for who they were, and that was the most important thing. 

_ Love _ . 

_ Pfft _ , Macarena scoffed internally,  _ what a fucking scam _ . 

She stretched her body, her muscles relieved of the tension that only came with being curled up in the fetal position all night, squeezing a pillow for dear life. Macarena sat up and tapped a finger against her phone screen to see the clock. 

06:48, it read. 

Sighing, she decided she was better off getting up and starting her morning routine rather than staying in bed in a futile attempt to rest. She unplugged her phone from its charger and brought it to the bathroom with her to listen to music.

Maca rested her hip against the counter and scrolled through her playlist, every song too slow or too soft. She needed something to distract her from the fact that even though it was  _ her _ day to celebrate  _ her _ accomplishments, all Macarena could think about was a certain brunette. 

She wasted a little time, scrolling through her social media accounts, pausing when she could see that Zulema was online. Tapping on her account, Maca scrolled through the brunette’s pictures. When that wasn’t enough, she sat on the floor of her bathroom, shower running and steam filling the room, as she scrolled through the pictures they’d taken together. 

She stopped at a series of photos she’d taken of Zulema just before the brunette had awakened one morning and a couple just after her eyes opened. Maca remembered how she felt when Zulema rubbed the sleep from her eyes and then immediately focused on her. Her eyes had danced with mirth. 

_ “You’re being creepy,” were the first words out of Zulema’s mouth.  _

_ “Am I? Or do I just know art when I see it?” Maca quipped back.  _

Zulema had scoffed and took Maca’s phone from her hands, tossing it towards the end of the bed, and then wrapped her around Maca’s waist, nuzzling her neck. 

_ “Let me go back to sleep, Annie Leibovitz.” _

Maca chuckled at the memory, and as she hopped into the shower, she was determined to help Zulema end this so that they could have those moments again. 

* * *

_ 07:33 _

Not far away, Zulema had yet to sleep. She, Alta, and the team had spent the night at their headquarters planning an elaborate, ingenious way to draw out their unsub from wherever he was. Zule hadn’t gotten home until nearly three in the morning, and even then, she knew she wouldn’t sleep. Her thoughts were too loud; they shouted Macarena’s name and screamed that Zulema was an idiot for letting her go even if it was for the blonde’s protection. Zulema sat out on her back patio, chainsmoking a pack of cigarettes and scrolling through Macarena’s Instagram. Eventually, the sun rose and she watched it for a while until she decided that it was time to shower and get ready for the long day.

She would rest on Sunday, she’d decided. 

It was commencement day. It was meant to be a celebration of not only her students’ achievements but of her own. She had been tasked with ushering in a new generation of undeniably talented psychologists with the hopes of making the world a safer place for everyone. It was why both students  _ and faculty _ donned caps and gowns to the commencement. They had all learned from one another and graduation day was the moment where those lessons were solidified. 

After graduation, there would probably be lunch at The Academy as was the tradition. After that, Zulema would head to Cruz to help Saray set up and do a soundcheck for the graduation party. It was going to be a long day, but there was one thing that Zulema looked forward to seeing: Macarena Ferreiro. 

They were a part of one another now, weaved so intricately into the core of each other that it has become impossible to see where Macarena ended and where Zulema began.

Struck with a sudden thought that she had to write down, Zulema found a small notepad and started writing. 

By the time she finished, it was longer than she thought it would be when she started, but hopefully, it would prove to Maca that she would do whatever it takes for them to be together safely. 

* * *

_ Madrid University South Lawn Football Stadium, 11:55 AM _

The ceremony was long; each field of study was called beginning with Agricultural Sciences and working its way down alphabetically. The graduate students were called row by row. Headmistress Aguirre waited for applause between each name as she handed every individual their degree, shook their hand, and took a picture with them onstage. They would then shake the hand of or hug the professor who was the head of their department, which meant the criminal psychology graduates would shake hands with Dr. Zulema Zahir. 

By the time criminal psychology was called, Macarena had nearly chewed her thumbnail completely off. Macarena’s row was finally called and she stood on shaking knees in unison with her fellow graduates and made their way down the aisle and towards the stage.

The closer that Macarena got to the stage, the faster her heart began to beat.

She neared the stairs, pausing as the student before she stepped up and took their degree. Her eyes landed on Zulema who stood in the middle of the stage in her red cap and gown. She was beautiful and what Macarena wouldn’t give to be able to share this day with her.  _ Truly  _ share it with her. They’d spent the better part of eight months sharing everything and now, Maca didn’t even know what if it was okay to shake Zulema’s hand because anyone could be watching. 

_ What was Macarena supposed to do? Shake her hand? Hug her? Kiss her senseless in front of thousands of people, serial killers be damned? _

“Macarena Ferreiro, Master of forensic psychology, magna cum laude.”

She heard her name and it was followed by thunderous applause from not only her family but her friends who had been there every step of the way. A beaming smile on her face, despite the heartache she felt inside, Macarena crossed the stage. She accepted her degree with her left hand while taking Miranda’s hand in her left and shaking it. They turned to the photographer, and he snapped a photograph. 

Maca’s legs carried her on autopilot towards Zulema who took Maca’s empty hand in her own as if to shake it, but Macarena could feel the brunette slip something inside of her hand. She then pulled Macarena into a brief hug, murmuring, “I’m proud of you,  _ rubia _ .” 

Macarena squeezed the slip of paper in her hand and nodded once as she crossed the stage to the sound of more applause. She followed the aisle back to her assigned seat in the row of students. Once there, Maca unzipped her robe slightly and slipped the note under the strap of the dress that she wore underneath, for safekeeping.

The anxiety of seeing Zulema onstage had melted away and was now replaced by impatience for the ceremony to end so she could find a quiet place where she could read Zulema’s note. 

They inched through the remainder of the degrees and speeches and  _ finally, _ Headmistress Aguirre took the podium once more. 

“Someone very wise once said ‘I’ve seen a generation eager, impatient even, to step into the rushing waters of history and change its course’. You are that generation for me. I’m not worried about you. I am worried about the people that try to stand between you and your destiny. Congratulations, Madrid University class of 2021! You did it!” 

The family and friends in the audience stood to their feet in applause and the graduates jumped up and tossed their caps in the air in celebration of their accomplishments. Maca turned around and spotted Rizos who was moving the folding chairs in an attempt to get to her. They met in the middle and gathered one another into a tight embrace with smiles that hurt their cheeks. 

“We did,  _ rubia _ . I had doubts that you would make it,” joked Rizos. 

Maca snorted. “Yeah because  _ I’m _ the one you should’ve been worried about.”

“Hey, where are your parents? I want to say hi.”

“That’s a good question.” 

They both turned and started to look for their families in the sea of bodies. Maca’s mom was waving at her in the stands and Maca smiled, waving back. She pulled on Rizos’s arm, grabbing her attention. “There’s my mom.”

Pushing their way through the graduates, faculty, and families, the pair finally made it to Maca’s mom in the stands. 

“Congratulations, girls!” Encarna pulled Maca into a tight embrace first and then Rizos. Rizos had been around Maca during plenty of FaceTime calls, and the brunette’s outgoing personality really captured Encarna. She was happy that Maca had found a great friend and somehow, Encarna knew that Rizos would become more like family. 

“Where’s dad and Román?”

“They’re in the refreshments tent.”

Maca rolled her eyes. “I should have known.”

“Oh! You guys should come to The Academy!” Rizos exclaimed. “We’ve got a table reserved for lunch.”

“I’m in.” Maca turned to her mom. “Mom, The Academy is our local watering hole. Good food, good drinks. What do you think?”

“I think anything sounds good right now. I’m starving.”

“Awesome, I’ll go track down my parents and sister and then we’ll you guys there.”

“Okay.”

And Rizos was off before Maca could even blink. 

* * *

_ The Academy _ ,  _ 13:13 _

Packed was an understatement. Their favorite bar had been overrun by nearly every graduate in town, some from a different university. It was a jubilant atmosphere and the music had been turned up for the occasion. Those who hadn’t been lucky enough to find a seat at the bar or reserve a table ahead of time were left to stand with drinks in their hand. 

Maca, Rizos, and their families had fit perfectly around one of the only booths in the place and had a delicious spread of everything on the menu in front of them. Their parents seemed to hit it off, their moms talking about their shared interest in cooking. Their dads talked about some sport or other and found that they had a common interest: fishing. Maca was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Rizos had a  _ twin _ who was her complete opposite when she felt Román nudge her shoulder. She looked at him and then in the direction that he jutted his chin. 

“Dr. Zahir, it’s so good to see you!” Román called to the woman passing by their table. She stopped abruptly and turned, eyes immediately landing on the one member of the Ferreiro-Kabila clan, and it certainly was  _ not _ Román. 

“Mr. Ferreiro, always a pleasure. How are things at the CNI?”

“Amazing. I wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for you, so thank you. I heard you returned as a supervisory special agent?”

Maca squirmed in her seat and Zulema’s eyes flickered to her and back to Román as she answered, “Just for a case. My ‘one that got away’, so to speak.”

“You’ll get ‘em,” he replied. 

“Sooner rather than later, I hope,” Zulema admitted conversationally, “these cases take so much time and I’m ready to get back to the things I care about.” Her gaze shifted back to Macarena.

_ Fuck,  _ Maca thought,  _ she looks so good _ . Macarena could feel her body reacting to Zulema’s presence. It brought her back to a time where she and Zulema were a secret from even their friends. The thrill she used to get from being around the brunette knowing that in a few hours, she would be getting absolutely destroyed by Zulema Zahir. The nostalgia pulled at her nipples until they were hardened points, noticeable in her white dress. She crossed her legs in an attempt to ease the ache in the part of her body that missed Zulema just as much as Maca’s heart did. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to massage away the flush that was surely going to appear if Zulema stayed any longer. 

Almost as if she could read Macarena’s thoughts, Zulema reiterated her pleasure of meeting Leopoldo and Encarna as well as Rizos’ family, leaving them with a pleasant, “Enjoy your lunch. Congratulations, girls.”

And with that, she was off. 

As their parents got back to their conversations, Rizos nudged Maca’s arm with her elbow and leaned in, whispering, “I can’t believe she just shook your parents’ hands with the same hand that she fucked you--.”

Maca’s eyes widened, and she nudged Maca back, whispering, “ _ Calla _ !” That sent Rizos into a fit of laughter.

“What are you two giggling about?” Rizos’ mother asked.

Always quick on her feet, Rizos lied, “The graduation party at Cruz tonight.”

“You girls be careful. Don’t get too drunk.” Encarna warned.

“Yeah, and stick together. Don’t drive drunk,” Rizos’ dad added.

They were somewhere between after-lunch drinks and the check coming when Macarena remembered Zulema’s note. She’d been distracted by the events of the day that it had taken a backseat. She excused herself from the table to the bathroom and once she was inside of a stall, she leaned against the wall and pulled the note from the strap of her dress, opening it.

She scanned its contents, a smile slowly stretching across her face.

Zulema  _ fucking _ Zahir.

The woman was brilliant. Before her, was a secret plan and a brief love letter rolled into one.

The blonde read through the last line of the note over and over again:

_ My only crime is loving you and for that, I’ll spend an eternity trying to escape the prison of this situation. I hope you’ll still be there to meet me when we’re both free. _

It was all so confusing, for both parties.

“Maca?” Rizos called. Maca unlocked the stall door and pushed it open. 

“You okay?”

Maca nodded. 

“What’s that?” Rizos asked. 

“A letter.” She pulled Rizos into the stall with her and let her read it. 

“I just don’t get why she’s doing this. If she wants to be with me so badly then why continue to make both of us suffer?” Maca whispered. 

Rizos looked at her like she was crazy. “Wait, you don’t know why she broke up with you?”

Maca shook her head. “You do?”

“Well, yeah. Saray told me.”

“Tell me!”

“Maca,” Rizos told her seriously, “this serial killer sent Zulema creepy, stalker pictures of you with your face crossed out.”

Maca’s heart dropped. “ _ What _ ?”

“Yeah, and he sent Zulema two notes where he threatened to kill  _ you _ if she didn’t stop seeing you.”

“ _ What _ ?” Maca repeated, louder this time. Rizos put a finger to her mouth. “I’ll come over tonight to get ready for Cruz at your apartment and we’ll talk more.”

Maca nodded. They exited the bathroom stall, the letter was hidden once more, and returned to their booth, where Macarena sat stunned at the information she’d just received. 


	30. And So It Begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thank you all so much for sticking with this story. When it first started, I didn’t think it would gain as much traction and attention that it has and for that I am so grateful. I’ve watched as people, who otherwise wouldn’t have, become friends on Twitter because of their love for this story and that’s all I’ve ever wanted: for people to feel connected to one another because of my work. That being said, this isn’t the end, it’s just the beginning and I hope you guys will stick with me, and Dr. Zahir and Inspectora Ferreiro in the upcoming sequel. Let your only crime be loving others as much as you love yourself. Blessed be.
> 
> -Ash ✨

As promised, Rizos met Maca at her home where they had a long conversation about what Saray had told her. Luna and Yoli met them at Maca’s apartment, already dressed and halfway to tipsy. They commandeered Maca’s bed as they helped Macarena decide what to wear. 

_ Something to drive Zulema crazy _ .  _ You need to show her what she’s missing out on _ , Rizos had said.

Six wardrobe changes and a few shots of tequila later and the girls were on their way to Cruz. 

Maca was weirdly nervous to see Zulema.

“Stop fidgeting. Nothing is different.” Rizos told her. 

Except everything was. She knew much more than she had and now that she has all of the information, she had the clarity to make the best decision regarding her future with or without Zulema. 

_ With or without Zulema? _

She weighed the pros and cons as they moved up in line for the club. And every step closer to the entrance was a step closer to Zulema. 

_ With or without Zulema? _

Was there even a decision to be made? How did free will exist when Maca knew her heart had already made it for her?

_ With Zulema _ . 

She could only see her future with the older woman and no matter what Zulema said, or how far she tried to push Macarena away tonight, Maca would show her that whether she liked it or not, Zulema was stuck with her. 

And with that thought she entered the club with her tribe. 

They hit the bar first and then Rizos pulled the girls onto the dance floor to celebrate their new degrees and the futures that came with them. But also to celebrate their friend, Tere, who, although she didn’t make it to the end, was always in their hearts.

Up in the DJ booth, Zulema stood with Saray, who was showing her a new mix on the MacBook screen. Zulema liked DJing but she still had a lot to learn from her best friend. 

“Oye, the girls are out there!” Saray pointed out. Zulema followed her finger to where Maca, Rizos, Luna and Yolanda were grooving to the music.

“I love her,” Zulema told Saray. She watched Macarena jumping up and down in the crowd, hands in the air, and a carefree smile on her face. It was the first time in a long while that she 

“Que?” Saray replied, cupping her hand around her ear. 

Zulema smirked. She knew that Saray had heard her perfectly well. Still, the older brunette turned to Saray and shouted, “I love her!”

Saray wrapped an arm around Zule’s neck, pulling her close. “So fucking tell her. You’re not just breaking your own heart being away from her, you’re also breaking your own.” 

Zulema made a move to hop off the stage, but she was held back but Saray’s hand on her shoulder. “Not so fast,  _ morocha _ ,” she called over the music, “I believe there’s a bet that we need to settle.”

Saray turned a few knobs on the mixing board and then scratched at the vinyl and in moments, one song melded gracefully into another and the crowd went nuts. She pointed to the catwalk that led from the DJ booth to one of the custom-built go-go cages meant for the dancers that Cruz hosted occasionally. The stage led took a sharp left to the bar and it only took a moment for Zulema to realize what she was talking about. 

_ Saray simply shook her head. “I can’t wait for the day when someone changes your mind.” _

_ “When that day comes, I will dance on the bar during one of your sets at Cruz.” _

“No,” Zulema told her. “Absolutely not.”

“ _ Una promesa es una promesa _ .”

Zulema opened her mouth to protest but Saray put her headphones back over her ears. She put her hands on Zulema’s shoulders and turned the brunette towards the catwalk, giving her a slap on her ass in encouragement. Zulema shot daggers at the taller woman she started across the platform and walked across until she reached the crowded bar. 

She thanked the universe that she’d chosen to wear spandex shorts underneath the XXL men’s button-up shirt that her small stature allowed to become a dress. Sleeves rolled up to her elbows and heeled boots that came to rest just above her knees, Zulema stepped onto the bar. With Saray shouting into the mic, and the reaction from the people at the bar, it didn’t take long for Zulema to capture everyone’s attention. 

And they went wild. 

Zulema moved her body to the thumping bass of ‘Madrid Vacío’. Moments later, the two female bartenders hopped up onto the bar, giving Zulema some background support while also making more tips. 

As Saray mixed in another song, Zulema felt a tap on her ankle. She looked down to see Macarena Ferreiro looking up at her, smirkingly. Zulema crouched down, then let her legs drop over the side of the bar as she hopped down. 

“You’re crazy!” Maca told her. 

Zulema smiled. “The things we do for love, no?”

“That was amazing,” the male bartender that Maca remembered as Valbuena interrupted. “Name your poison! It’s on the house!”

“Whiskey double, neat,” Zulema replied, and then nodded at Macarena, “and a  _ patrón piedra _ for the blonde.”

He tapped the bar twice in acknowledgement and set to work making their drinks. 

“I thought I told you that you don’t have to get me drunk. I’m a sure thing.”

Zulema chuckled at that and their drinks were set before them. She picked it up, toasted the bartender in thanks and then took a deep pull from it. The brunette prayed she would find the strength to keep her hands from pulling at the him of Macarena’s slinky little gold, halter dress at the bottom of her drink. 

It didn’t help that Maca’s front was practically pressed against Zulema’s side. 

Maca leaned over, mouth near Zulema’s ear, she shouted over the music, “I know about the threats!”

Zulema pulled back in surprise, and her eyes searched Macarena’s face.

“How?” Zulema shouted back. 

“I can’t reveal my criminal informant.”

Zulema exhaled a chuckle and shook her head.

_ Fucking Rizos _ . 

Zulema knocked back the remnants of her drink. “So? What now?”

“Now we get this motherfucker!” Maca paused for a moment before adding, “Together!”

Zulema was hesitant. Maca could tell by the way her fingers tapped against her empty glass. Zulema looked at Maca’s unwavering expression of determination. 

Dark green eyes traveled down Macarena’s body and back up.

Still, her expression didn’t change. Macarena tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow. 

A challenge. 

And they both knew what challenges did to Zulema. The ball was in the brunette’s court.

Zulema leaned in, lips against Maca’s ear, hand on the small of her back. “Let’s get out of here.”

Goosebumps prickled Maca’s skin and praised herself for successfully holding back a shiver. She took the hand of a cocky Zulema and pulled her through the packed club towards the exit. Zulema caught Saray’s eye and the brunette pointed to her, a huge grin on her face. 

_ Túuu _ .

Zulema pointed back. 

_ Tú _ .

Past security and through a dark corridor to the entrance, Maca led Zulema outside. The moment they passed the line of club-goers still waiting to get inside, Zulema stopped Macarena in her tracks and pulled the blonde against her. One hand slipped down the small of her back and over the curve of her ass, gripping it tightly while the other came up to grip Maca’s chin. 

And then Zulema kissed her. 

In front of god and drunken sorority girls, alike. There were a few catcalls from the line but it didn’t phase the pair. 

“ _ Te necesito, cari _ ,” Maca murmured and she flexed her fingers to stop them from unbuttoning Zulema’s shirt-dress right there on the sidewalk. 

Zulema nodded across the street. 

“My car is right there.” She reached down and pulled her key fob out of her thigh-high boot and tapped the unlock button. They started across the four-way street, with no cars to their left and two to their right. 

The first car stopped and the driver waved them across and just as they reached the fourth lane, time seemed to slow down for Zulema. 

The sound of a car engine — an SUV?— speed up instead of slowing down. She turned in time to see the black truck that’d been following both her and Macarena speeding towards them. 

“Maca!”

In the blink of an eye, Zulema wrapped an arm around the blonde’s waist and used every ounce of her strength to push Macarena onto the small space between her car and another. Her body followed but not before her right shoulder was clipped by the front of the SUV. She cried out in pain as her body crumpled to the grown against Maca’s. Her shoulder had been forced out of its socket. 

Pushing through the pain, Zulema scrambled to hover over Macarena who was slowly coming to. Her head had hit the curb. 

“Maca? Maca, are you okay?” The blonde heard Zulema’s voice. Her head was pounding and her ears were ringing. She tried to sit up despite Zulema’s protests for her to stay where she was. 

Maca rubbed the back of her head as she sat up and she felt something wet. Pulling her hand away, she saw her fingers were covered in blood. 

“Shit. You’re bleeding.” She pushed the front tail of her shirt to the side and pulled her phone from the tiny shorts underneath and dialed a number. 

“Who are you calling?”

“Foxtrot, Charlie, Oscar, Lima,” Zulema said into the phone, “zero-seven-three-one.”

“That sounds like a license plate,” Alta said. 

“It is. Find the owner.” 

“Can I ask why?”

“Because they tried to kill me and my goddamned girlfriend! Just do it, and call me back!” Zulema hung up and pulled Maca towards her. “We have to get you to a hospital.”

“What? No, I’m fine,” Maca negated. 

“You’re not fine. You’re bleeding. You may need stitches and you could have a possible concussion.” Zulema told her. “And I need you to pop my arm back into its socket.”

“What?!”

Zulema mustered up just enough energy to roll her eyes. “Come here. Put your hand here.” She pointed to her shoulder and Maca did as she was told. “I know you can grip tighter than that,  _ conenjta _ , come on,” she joked, her head lolling back against the bumper on the car behind her. 

“Zulema, this isn’t funny.”

“Come on. Tighter.”

Maca tightened her grip on Zulema’s shoulder and she watched in horror as Zulema twisted her body on an angle using her body weight and Maca’s resistance to shove her shoulder back into place. The brunette cursed the night sky and then took a few deep breaths. 

“ _ Venga _ ,” Zulema said and pushed off of the car. She struggled to her feet and then helped Macarena up and into the car. 

Zulema started the engine, whipping the car out of the parking spot with ease, and as she sped down the street towards the hospital, she reached over and pulled Maca’s hand into her own. 

“We’re gonna end this, Zulema,” Maca said. There was a promise in her voice that Zulema didn’t know she needed to hear. But someone Maca knew.

_ Y una promesa es una promesa _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1000 points to Slytherin if anyone catches the meaning behind the license plate.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m killingsaray over on twitter and tumblr! come say hi!


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